419 in the 23rd Century
by shetland
Summary: A rash of mysterious unsolicited messages has been flooding the mailboxes of the UFP and Starfleet. Jim Kirk is the latest recipient, but no one will tell him what it means. (Language. Revised Chapter 6 up.)
1. Default Chapter

Kirk blinked wearily at the computer screen, where a few messages had appeared overnight. A few of them blinked to indicate their priority, even a few compics had come in from people he either didn't know or simply didn't want to hear from. He sighed, sipped his coffee and straightened. "Computer, display text messages sequentially, starting with the first one."

"Working," the computer complied as though it were not seven in the morning and she were earthbound and bored.

The text scrolled past lazily. Requests for procurement, credit transfers in and out of his account from various and sundry banks, information on crew transfers that he really should have paid more attention to. He sighed again, slouched, rubbed his eyes as though to clear them and asked, "Computer, stop display of text messages. Begin display of Compics starting sequentially."

"Working,"

A man's face appeared, looking informative and happy. "Men! Are you tired of thinning hair? Ever wonder how the Klingon warriors keep their hair so thick and lustrous well into their old age? We have the answer! This remarkable serum - "

"Computer stop message. Delete."

"Message deleted."

"For a Starfleet message account, you'd think that stuff wouldn't get through," he muttered under his breath. "Computer display next message," he sipped his coffee, which was beginning to cool.

"Working,"

"Feraizxhai Imports, your source for rare and valuable goods from across the galaxy, wants you to know that we have a new shipment of the finest aged Romulan Ale available _now_. Please call the number appearing at the end of this message and reserve your case today," said the soft and sultry woman.

_Wonder if that's Bones' source for his Romulan Ale_, thought Kirk with smile. "Computer, delete message." He chuckled again, and looked at the sender of the next message. He didn't know them.

The Compic began to display, but instead of the usual chipper salesman appearing, there was static. The screen crackled grey and within it there was a faint sound of explosions and screaming. Kirk stared with a growing concern. Even if this was a wrong number, it was serious.

Suddenly a woman's face appeared, and she looked terrified. She began babbling in a foreign language, but from her tone Kirk knew that she was pleading for help. Behind her the building rocked, more aliens ran for their lives and the explosions increased in intensity. She turned from the screen to see a fireball go up behind her. She turned back and began screaming, and the screen went dark. The UFP Banner appeared, as it did at the end of all Compics, and it seemed an incongruous ending to the panicked and unknown message.

"Computer," Kirk asked. "Replay message and apply universal translator."

"Not enough data to translate. Language is unknown."

Kirk sat back. He hadn't ever seen an alien that looked like her, but in all the hundreds of species belonging to the Federation he hadn't ever thought that was unusual. He tapped the desk.

"Computer, save message. Get me Admiral Nogura on a Compic, if he's available." He knew that sometimes the Admiral came in early, and maybe he could catch him before he started his morning rush.

"Admiral Nogura's office," a bright young ensign's face appeared on the screen. Kirk didn't know him.

"Is Nogura available?" Kirk asked politely.

"I'm sorry, Captain Kirk, but Admiral Nogura is away on family business for the next three days. Is there something that I can help you with?" The Ensign appeared to be helpful enough.

"I'm not sure," Kirk thought, tapping the desk with a stylus. "I just received a compic message, marked urgent. I don't know who this person is, but I think that the Admiral should see it."

"The Admiral is not taking any business, he's with his fourth great-great grandson," the ensign smiled. "Just born yesterday. You understand."

"I do. But at the same time I do think that someone should see this message."

"Perhaps we can find the right party to send it to in the Admiral's absence." The Ensign began tapping away at a keyboard. "I'm sending you my messaging address here. Please forward me a copy of the message if you would. I'll wait until I receive it, so we can resolve this today."

The address appeared on Kirk's screen, blinking a pale blue. "Computer," Kirk spoke. "Please forward a copy of Compic message number three to the address appearing on the latest Instant Message."

"Working,"

The Ensign waited politely, and in a minute his computer chimed the arrival of the Compic. "Here we are," he smiled, and began to view the message. His face fell, becoming serious. He stopped the message and began tapping away at his keyboard again. "Captain Kirk, I'm going to have to ask that you immediately delete your copy of that message. Delete the copy and delete the sender from your Sender's list. I'm going to send a technician out to you, just to check your computer."

"What is it? Who is it?"

"We are aware of this and, rest assured, it is being handled properly," the Ensign smiled again, this time with a forced cheerfulness. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention immediately."

"I don't understand, do you know who that is?"

"Thank you again for calling us at the Admiral's office. Have a great morning, Captain Kirk." The screen blipped black.

Kirk sat back, stunned. He thought a moment, and then quickly reached over and pulled two disks out of a drawer. "Computer, save a copy of Compic number three onto disk."

"Working,"

He then slipped in the second disk. "Now save a copy of all recent messages onto disk for PADD use."

"Working,"

The computer slipped and hummed for a moment, then spit out the disk. "Messages now ready for PADD use,"

"Thank you," Kirk said quietly, knowing that the computer didn't care. He put the disk with the one message in his uniform pocket, and then all the messages in a PADD. Then he looked up. "Computer, ring Doctor McCoy,"

"Working,"

Kirk looked around, almost furtively, at the door as the computerized bell rang for McCoy. After four rings, McCoy appeared, unshaven and groggy. "Jim? What in god's name are you doing up this early?"

"Bones," Kirk paused. "How would you like to go out for breakfast? My treat."

McCoy brightened. "Hey, that's a great idea! I think there's a waffle bar at that little place on the Station. We can eat waffles and watch the ship get patched up. Real waffles, too, not out a replicator."

"Meet me there in a half hour," Kirk said quietly.

"Half hour? You okay, Jim?" McCoy suddenly looked serious. "I think if I run I can catch the next shuttle out to the station, but,"

Just then the door to Kirk's apartment chimed. Kirk looked at the screen. "Just meet me for breakfast in a half hour," he forced a smile. "Kirk out."

He turned to the door, "Come in," he said as though he were expecting friends. The door opened and three computer technicians stood in the foyer.

"Captain Kirk? We're here to check your computer. That Compic you downloaded this morning may have contained some malicious code. We just want to check it out." The technician stepped forward, appearing nice enough, but the two that remained in the foyer didn't smile. They each carried a case, but Kirk doubted that the cases had tools in them. "Is this the computer?" the techinican gestured with a smile.

"Oh, yes," Kirk smiled. "Thank you, I was told that they were sending a tech but I had no idea," he forced a chuckle.

The technician smiled and sat at the desk, entering in a few passcodes and overstepping into the mainframe of Kirk's computer. "Captain, the computer is showing that the Compic was saved to a disk. Where is that disk?"

"Oh," Kirk did his best to appear surprised. "I copied all my messages to a PADD disk so I could review them over breakfast." Kirk handed the technician the PADD.

"Okay, well, we're going to have to take that copy," the techinican took to disk and gave it to another tech, who slipped it into a case without a word. "Well, I think that takes care of everything. Enjoy your breakfast with Doctor McCoy. Thanks for your time."

Kirk showed them the door, and then hurredly put on his uniform jacket. He felt the pocket and the slip of disk was still there. He ran out the door and hurried to make the shuttle to the station.

Space Station one rotated lazily in it's orbit over earth, and within it the line to the famous Galactic Waffle House hummed with civilians and Starfleet officers alike. Kirk arrived and scanned the small crowd for a sight of McCoy. Fortunately McCoy had arrived earlier and waved from the bar to Kirk.

Kirk stepped over and took a stool. "Couldn't we a get a table?"

"It's a thirty minute wait for a table. I'm hungry now. You want coffee?"

"No, thanks, I've had two cups already." Kirk glanced around the diner.

"Hey, Martha? Orange Juice for the captain." McCoy waved to a short-skirted waitress. She grinned at him warmly and stepped to get the juice. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"What makes you think there's something going on?"

"Because you're looking around like someone is after you."

Martha, the waitress, appeared with a glass of orange juice and set it before Kirk. "You want to order?"

"The Double Special," McCoy smiled and sipped his coffee.

"And how do you want your eggs?"

"Sunny side up,"

"All right, and you," she pointed to Kirk with her stylus.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Kirk waved her away.

McCoy threw up his arms. "You drag me out of bed for breakfast and then you don't eat? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Bones, did you ever get a strange message on your compics?"

"All the time. Who cares?" McCoy was nonplussed.

"I think I should care about this one," Kirk said quietly.

"Can we eat, first?" McCoy insisted. "I'd like to remind you that this was your idea."

They stepped to the ComStation and Kirk slipped in the disk. McCoy watched with curiosity, and when it was over he turned to Kirk. "Jim, you don't know this woman?"

"No, never seen her before. And the computer can't translate. When I told Nogura's office about it, they aked me to delete my copy. Then they sent over a technician and two thugs to make _sure_ I deleted it."

"Then why do you have,"

"I made two copies, they took the other one. The computer only remembers the last copy that it made."

McCoy sighed and handed the disk back to Kirk. He thought a minute. "Do you really want to try and find out what this is all about?"

Kirk nodded.

"Okay, I gotta favor owed to me. I think we can redeem it now." McCoy turned back to the Com Station and pressed the receiver channel open. "Computer, get me the Office of Starfleet Intelligence."

"Working,"

The Screen flickered and displyed the bright silver and blue emblem on the OSFI. A young face appeared. "Good Morning, Office of Starfleet Intelligence. How may I assist you?"

"This is Doctor Leonard McCoy. I'm looking for Lieutenant Carter, in the AO division."

"One moment, please," the receptionist paused. "Lieutenant Carter has been promoted recently, she's now a Lieutenant Commander. She is in her office today. Let me get her for you." The screen flickered blue while the call was transferred.

"Lieutenant Commander, how about that?" McCoy smiled. "Wonder when that happened,"

The screen flickered to a woman's face. "Len McCoy, you crazy man! Where have you been!"

"Addy! We're earthbound for a few days and thought we'd just look you up and say 'Hi'. Congratulations on that promotion!"

"Why, thank you. I saw your ship on the register of girls in for repair and wondered if you'd look me up. Want to catch a drink sometime?"

"Well, actually, I was wondering if I could catch you in the office today." McCoy tried to appear as casual as possible.

"Oh," she sighed, in mock resignation. "You want to see me at the _office_. Does this mean you want something official?"

"No, it just means I want to see you at the office," McCoy smiled.

"Uh-huh," Carter smiled. "Well, I'm here all day and I have been in a bit of a lull lately. When can I expect you?"

McCoy turned to Jim. "What time?"

"How in hell," Kirk started. He saw McCoy's pressing glare and said quickly, "1300 hours."

"Thirteen hundred okay by you, Addy?"

"This is official business, you're using official time," she scribbled something on a PADD and smiled again. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that favor that I'm owing you, would it?"

McCoy shook his head, "I don't know if I want to call in that favor yet or not."

Carter sighed. "Okay, see you at thirteen hundred. Bring food," she added quickly, and the screen blipped back to the OSFI emblem, and then faded to black.

McCoy turned to Kirk. "You want to check in with the ship and meet me over there?"

"How does an agent with the OSFI come to owe you a favor?"

McCoy smiled a wry smile. "It's a long story, don't worry about it."

"How far is does this favor go?"

"I don't know, Jim. We'll have to ask her that when we get to her."

Kirk met McCoy at the gates of the OSFI complex, a series of quiet, tree lined paths surrounding nondescript buildings. A few officers wearing OSFI blacks and maroons walked the grounds, some carrying a few clothes, and some carrying stacks of paper and books. None of them acknowledged the two officers until McCoy stopped one of them.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the Ambassador's Outreach Division?"

"Domestic or Alien?" the ensign blinked.

"Ah, Alien." McCoy said.

The ensign pointed. "Down that path, turn left at the third building. The entrance is on the north side, sir."

"Thank you,"

"Seems pretty quiet around here," Kirk commented quietly.

"This is all administrative here," McCoy said. "Nothing too dangerous. Addy helps take care of all the ambassadors around here thinking that they're being spied on. It's not too unusual to see Non-Agents on the grounds."

They went into a small, three level brick building. A receptionist in OSFI blacks greeted them. "Good Afternoon, sirs. May I help you?"

"We're looking for Lieutenant Commander Carter, we have an appointment for 1300 hours," McCoy leaned on the desk casually, as though he belonged there.

The Receptionist checked her PADD and nodded. "I do see that she is expecting you. Please step to the visor for a retina scan," she gestured to a small visor cropping up from the desk.

Kirk leaned forward and felt a familiar warmth envelop his face. The computer chirped a positive identification. "Kirk, James T. Captain." He stepped back and the receptionist handed him a small temporary badge with a smile.

"Thank you, Captain." She waited for the doctor to finish his scan, and prepared a badge for him. "Doctor, thank you," she handed him the badge and noted their arrival time in her computer. "Lieutenant Commander Carter will be here shortly to escort you upstairs." She sat back down and went about her business.

"I thought you said this wasn't official," Kirk leaned over to McCoy and whispered.

"It's the damn Secret Service, Jim. What the hell did you expect?"

A door slid open and out walked a young woman, the same one that had spoken to them on the Compic. "Len!" she greeted McCoy cheerfully. She walked up and gave him a brief embrace, which he gladly reciprocated. "Good to see you again."

"You too, Addy. And congratulations again on that promotion, when did that happen?"

"Two months ago. As soon as I took it I remembered why I should have turned it down" She gave a quick laugh. She turned to Kirk, "And this must be Captain Kirk," she reached out and they shook hands. "I'm so glad to meet you, heard so much about you."

She was very personable, and obviously very sociable. If her job was dealing with neurotic ambassadors, then she was very well suited for it. Her warm smile seemed to diffuse Kirk's immediate nervousness about his particular problem. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm glad that Doctor McCoy has friends in such strange places."

"I think Doctor McCoy has friends he doesn't tell us about because they are in such strange places," she laughed again. "Let's head upstairs, shall we?"

They walked up three flights of stairs to the top floor, past doors that had no handles, and walls with vary plain sconces that brightly lit the sterile walls. Carter opened a door with a cardkey, and held it open for them. "Just down the hall here," she pointed to a door just visible around the corner. "The door should be open."

McCoy pulled it open, to a small room with a variety of desks. Carter stepped in behind them, and pointed to her desk. "Just the first one, there. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?" she gestured to the servitor.

"No, thanks," Kirk pulled up a chair to the desk.

"All right, then." She sat behind the computer and smiled warmly again. "Now, what can I do for you two today?"

Kirk knew that this was how she handled her regular guests. Diffuse them with hospitality.

McCoy cleared his throat, unsure of how to start. "Well, Addy, Jim here got an unsolicited Compic this morning. Prerecorded and sent to his box. It's a little unusual and I thought that you'd be the girl to see if it's anything serious."

"Sounds simple enough. Do you have a copy of the message or would I need to access your messages, Captain?" she turned to the computer and began searching for a file on James T. Kirk.

"I have a copy," Kirk stopped her. "There's no need to look at my file with the OSFI," he tried a smile.

"Too many skeletons in there, huh?" she laughed. "All right."

Kirk handed her the disk and she popped it into the computer. The familiar sounds of the message replayed, and as Carter watched, her warm smile faded to a forced smile. She stopped it midway through, as though she didn't need to see anymore. She took out the disk and looked at it.

"Who is it, Addy?" McCoy asked.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" she looked at Kirk.

"I told Admiral Nogura's assistant this morning. He sent out three hired thugs to erase it from my computer about five minutes later." Kirk said.

She sighed, "And you made this copy first, then a second which they then took from you."

"Yes," Kirk affirmed.

"Addy, do you know what that woman wants?" McCoy asked. "Is she all right?"

Carter paused. "Are you calling in your favor or not?"

"Is this worth my favor?" McCoy sounded like he was haggling.

"Meh," she shrugged. "This is mid level Federation Priority. But," she trailed off.

"Yes!" Kirk said suddenly. "We're calling in the damn favor! Now what the hell is this and how the hell did they get my mailing address?"

Carter reached up and flipped off her computer. She pressed a button under her desk and the door gave a soft click as it locked. She looked at them, suddenly very serious. "No one knows who this is. And it's not just this one person, there are several messages of this variety circulating amongst the Ambassadorship and Representatives to the Federation. No one knows who they are, what they are, what they want or where they're coming from. It could be real, it could be a scam of some kind. We don't know for sure."

"That's all you can tell me? You don't know anything?" Kirk began to get impatient.

"Now let's wait a minute." Carter held up her hands in a peace gesture. "Let's examine what we do know. The Subspace Provider on this message offers free messaging to anyone willing to provide a name. There are only three Subspace Compic Providers who make this offer. Two of them extend that service beyond the borders of the Federation. One of them extends a little ways into Romulan Space, and the other a long ways into Klingon Territory."

"So this person could be in Romulan Space?" McCoy asked.

"It's very well possible."

"Why would they be sending messages to me?" Kirk asked.

"Don't take this message personally," Carter shook her head. "Like I said before, several Ambassadors and Representatives have been receiving messages of this variety for a few months now. Just recently a few of the Admiralty has gotten them, and it looks like you're the latest member of that club." Carter smiled again, this time genuinely. "They get the computer to pick a Federation address at random. And there you are." She slid the disk back to Kirk across the table.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Is that it?" Kirk asked.

"Officially, yes," she nodded and smiled.

Kirk began to get very impatient. "Aren't you forgetting something, _officially_?"

"Yes, _sir_," her patient smile did not waver for a second.

"Now, hang on, Jim." McCoy tried to calm him.

"Look," Carter said quietly. "I can tell you, here and now, that the Federation is aware of this problem and it is being addressed."

"That's all you can tell us?"

"Here and now, yes," she nodded. She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two business cards. "I know that you are to ship out as soon as your scheduled repairs are complete. In the meantime," she took a pen and wrote quickly on the back of one. "If you think of anything else I should know about, or something else comes up, please don't hesitate to call me." She handed the two cards to the two men face up, the silver embossed plate of the OSFI emblem flashing.

"Thanks," Kirk sounded less than impressed.

Carter stood, her smile never wavering. "If that's all that I can do for you today.."

"Thanks for taking the time, Addy," McCoy pushed his chair back under his desk.

"I think we can find our own way out," Kirk was brusque. Carter didn't stop him, but gave a furtive glance and a wink to McCoy.

Outside the building, Kirk walked quickly towards the paved pathway back to San Francisco. "Well, that was a waste of time. I guess that's what I get for trying to play espionage games on during my time off."

McCoy turned the card that Addy had given him over, in a moment of thought. On the back was written four numbers, "2100". He remembered Addy saying "here and now". He looked at it and touched Kirk. "Jim, I think I'm going to take off."

"But I thought you might want to," Kirk had been thinking about a drink in a little Samba Bar nearby.

"I'll see you later, Jim!" McCoy strode off, leaving Kirk alone on the pathways.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, at 2100 hours sharp, McCoy was in the doors of the Nameless Bar that he and Addy had discovered three years past. They were on a hunt for a bar that wasn't crowded with tourists or "posers" as Addy called them. Beneath her friendly working veneer was a somewhat hostile cynic.

He spotted Addy at the bar, talking with three tellarites. He stepped up, and the three blue tinted fellows quickly nodded and said goodbye to Addy. She turned and faced him with a smile. "What a bunch of losers, coming into my office and demanding information. Just who in the hell do you think you are, anyway?"

"Well, you know me. I think I own the place," he shrugged, grinning.

"And in the end, you probably will." Carter smiled, and waved to the elderly woman behind the bar. "Jack Daniel's, right?" Carter asked.

A few lotto machines chimed in the background, their colored lights flashing softly. The Tellarites and a few other aliens laughed at their luck.

Irene, the stout, white haired waitress brought over a shot glass and a new bottle of beer for Addy. She grinned a toothless smile at McCoy and strode back over to her glass washing.

McCoy pointed. "What, none for you?"

"Nah, I've got places to be," but she drank the beer quickly all the same.

"So, what _is_ the story behind that Compic that Jim got?"

"Well, there's a couple of running theories on the subject, most of the highly classified and some of them I haven't been privy to, myself. One theory is that there's a planet in Romulan space that being subjected to a hostile takeover, there's another theory that it's a bunch of Arcturan terrorists looking to lure a Federation Starship near, and yet another that thinks the messages are just a ploy to wheedle financial assistance out of the Federation or Ambassadors themselves." She sighed quietly and began peeling the sticker off the beer bottle. "I can tell you that I'm on a team to help investigate them and stop them at the source. We're planning an investigative mission within the next few months to check it out. We have some leads in the Arcturan sector."

McCoy smiled. "Then I came to the right place, then!"

She shrugged. "I get ambassadors through my office all the time, wanting to know who is sending them with these crazy messages. I've seen about twenty varieties. Just after you came in was another Admiral, all pissed off that Nogura was gone and that he had to deal with me."

"Addy, what do you really think it is?" McCoy lowered his voice to a more serious tone.

She looked around casually. "I've told you everything I know. We don't really know what they are."

"You had mentioned something earlier about a subspace service provider extending into Romulan space. You don't think the Romulans are involved, do you?" McCoy sipped his whiskey.

"We haven't even approached the Romulan government with the possibility. They don't know that anyone is attempting to contact us. I'd like to keep it that way. My only fear is that one of these messages lands in the lap of the wrong ambassador, and they suddenly stop." She glanced at her watch. "I've got a holodeck appointment. Do you need a ride back into town?"

"It would save me a cab ride."

"Great," she set some money on the bar to pay their tab and grabbed her hat. "I'm parked out front."

The sleek little scout sat in the parking lot, and the doors slid open as Carter pressed her remote control.

"Nice ride," commented McCoy.

"It's not mine," Carter said, tossing her hat in the door. "It's the 'fleet's. I could never afford anything this nice." She started the engines, and they quietly hummed over the parking lot and back towards San Francisco.

"Look, don't take Jim too personally, he was just upset," McCoy began.

"Pffft," she snorted. "Don't worry about it. I understand completely. He got a weird message and wanted an explanation. I had none to give him. I'd be upset, too."

The Comm beeped, and she pressed a button. "Carter," she answered quickly.

"Hey, Addy, where in the hell are you? We can't start until you get here!"

"Piss off, I have twenty minutes," she shot back, glancing at the chronometer.

"No, you're off by a half hour." The voice seemed to laugh.

"Take off, I'll be there as soon as I can. Carter out!" she clicked off the comm. She piloted the little scout down through the clouds, and a pattering rain began hitting the windows. She sighed quietly.

"I haven't had the chance to ask how you're doing," McCoy asked.

"I'm fine. The promotion was a bit of a surprise, but beyond that, I'm fine."

"You seem to be doing well."

"I don't think I was their first choice for the job, I just think they needed someone in the position, if you catch my drift. I'm not really a people person."

"That's crazy. You could take a rabid raccoon and turn it into a housepet," McCoy snorted. "You're good with people."

"Doesn't mean that I like doing it. Where are you staying?"

"I've got a studio I keep on the West Side." It sounded a little sad, "a studio." It was just someplace to sleep while he waited to go back into space.

Carter sighed, and the wipers began flipping across the windshield. They left little trails here and there where the surface was uneven and scarred. A soft light began to flash and a beep began to sound.

"What's that?" McCoy asked.

Carter looked down with mild surprise. "We're being scanned."

"By who?"

"I don't know. Hang on, though. We'll find out." She pressed another button and a manual flight control appeared out of her console. She grabbed the control and kept flying straight. "You may want to buckle up."

The soft light pulsed, and the beeping sound increased. Carter slowed the scout, and drifted to the right. "We'll see if they just want to pass us, but that's no reason to scan us."

McCoy leaned back nervously, and fiddled with his strap buckle. Another scout, an older scout, appeared in the left window, following closely. The soft light on the console went out and was replaced by a steady red light. "What does that one mean?"

"That means they're armed," Carter replied with a forced casual tone.

"Are you?" McCoy raised his brows.

"Oh, yeah," she touched the panel. "We can blow them out of the water if they fire on us. Don't worry."

The second scout slowed and slipped into a close hold on their rear.

"Hang on," Carter said lightly, and flipped the scout to a sharp right. The second followed, but was not as fluid as her movements. "They may think we're civilians. Did you notice anyone following you to the bar?"

"No," McCoy's voice rose.

"How about the cab driver?" Carter's eyes darted from scanners to windows to the second scout.

"I don't know!" McCoy was nearly shouting when a sudden shot shook the scout from the left.

"That's what I needed," Carter smiled. "Thanks, boys." She tapped a button on the console, and flashing blue and red strobes appeared in the front and rear windows. She flipped the scout into a sharp loop, and came up behind the second scout, which was now jerking incoherently. "Probably switching drivers," she grinned.

"What the hell are you doing?" barked McCoy.

"Pulling them over," she said as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "They fired at us. I have every right to fire back, but I'd like to talk to them. So we're pulling them over."

"Shouldn't you ask for backup or something?"

"That shot could be seen for miles, there's probably security on the way now."

As if on cue, sirens began to blare behind them and more lights began to flash behind Carter's scout. Carter's comm began to speak in a heavy order, "OSFI Agent, disengage. We'll take it from here. Repeat, disengage pursuit."

Carter answered quickly. "Hey, I'd like to question the occupants of that scout. I'm not disengaging."

"You have no cause. Disengage."

"Don't you have some kind of authority over," McCoy began.

"No," Carter answered angrily. "Welcome to the rule of Law. I can't question anyone off the street without a good reason."

"But,"

"Conversations I have off the record about existing cases with friends are not a good reason. Especially when those friends aren't supposed to know about those existing cases." Carter pulled back and let the Security Scouts tail the now slowing criminal scout.

She flew quietly for a few moments, an uncomfortable silence between them. "Listen," she said suddenly. "Can you stay with a friend tonight? Captain Kirk, maybe?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure there's something you don't want to tell me?"

She tapped her finger to her lip in thought. "No," she shook her head. "I just don't feel very comfortable with you being alone after that."

There was a pause. "Jim lives on the north side, near to Starfleet Headquarters." McCoy admitted. "But I don't think,"

"Just humor me, okay?" she sounded exasperated. "You're not going to be planetside for much longer, and when you're back on the Enterprise you'll have photon torpedoes and phasers to keep people like that at bay. I just don't know who they were, or why they fired on us."

Kirk looked out over the water and sipped his brandy. "I think you're both crazy."

"Maybe. Jim, do you know how much longer we'll be here?" McCoy was suddenly anxious to get off the planet, even if it was Earth.

"I don't know." Kirk set down his now empty brandy glass and sat down in a chair facing his fireplace. "But I do know that Admiral Nogura is back, and he wants to speak with me tomorrow morning. I know it's about our assignment."

"They haven't told you anything yet?"

"No, but I've heard rumors that there's some medical runs to be made in the Arcturan sector. The Constellation just came back, and she needs to be reassigned to assist the Vulcan Science teams in the Beta Quadrant. Someone needs to pick up the slack and it's usually us."

McCoy nodded. "But you have to admit, it'd be a gravy job if we do get it."

"A nice change of pace," Kirk nodded. "Well, Mr. Spock is due to get back into San Francisco tomorrow morning."

"Oh?"

"His mother was vacationing in the Dakotas, Spock went to be with her for a few days."

"Get him back in touch with some semblance of humanity," McCoy crossed his arms and looked at the clock.

"It's getting late," Kirk said with a smile. "I suppose you'll want to retire to my guest room."

Kirk's apartment had a second bedroom, but as Kirk had not seen overnight visitors in three years, it was more used for storage than guests. He had tossed the old civilian into a corner and ravaged out a few blankets from a forgotten linen closet.

McCoy, in his undershirt and shorts, slept fitfully in a strange bed and in worry over the events of the evening.

Carter watched the interview recordings that had been made of the pilot who had fired on her scout.

"Did you know that you were firing on a Starfleet officer, and an Intelligence Agent?" asked the Security officer.

"I didn't know," said the suspect, shrugging with indifference. He was Arcturan.

"Did anyone tell you to follow the Starfleet officer to the bar?"

"I didn't know he was 'fleet, okay? We were just gonna rob 'em."

Carter watched silently in the dark as the interview progressed.

"You don't buy it, do you?" Fisher stepped into the room.

"I would if he wasn't Arcturan." Carter leaned back in her chair and pressed a button to stop the playback. "It's too much of a coincidence in my mind."

"Did they charge him with anything?"

Carter shrugged. "Unlawful discharge of a weapon, but they couldn't get him on firing on a Starfleet Officer. He claims he didn't know about that."

"So, he walks, then." Fisher turned a chair around and sat.

"Yup, and I never get to see him." Carter sounded disgusted.

"Well, that bar isn't in the best of neighborhoods Ad. He may be telling the truth." He watched her face and there was no response. He sighed. "Let's watch that recording again, Ad. I may be able to pick him out."

"Do you think he's one of our suspects?"

"No, but he may be working with one of our suspects. Remember, I got invited to lunch the other day by an Arcturan."

"That's right, and you told him you were there, but he must have missed you," she remembered.

"I guess I should have gone!" Fisher smiled.

The following morning Kirk walked alone to Nogura's office. McCoy was sleeping like a stone and he saw no need to wake the doctor.

When he stepped into the office, he saw another man, another Admiral, sitting beside the desk.

"Good morning, Jim," Nogura stood up and shook Jim's hand happily. "May I introduce Admiral Richards," he nodded in the direction of the other man, who stood and reached for Kirk's hand.

Kirk reached out tentatively. "Admiral Richards," he repeated slowly, trying to remember where he had heard the name.

"Chief of the Office of Starfleet Intelligence," Richards stated flatly, shaking Kirk's hand. He was an older gentleman, a little short and gray hair.

Kirk sat down, eyeing the situation suspiciously. Nogura saw the look in his eye and held up his hands. "Now, Jim, relax. It's not what you think."

"You don't know what I'm thinking," Kirk said defensively.

"Jim, the Enterprise is going to be taking over for the Constellation in the medical supply runs to the Arcturan system," Nogura began. "But I think you knew about that."

Kirk nodded. "I had gotten that impression."

Nogura nodded, smiled and knitted his fingers. "Great, so you know about all that. Well, Richards here contacted me about any ships I had running to that sector, and yours popped up. We have a few passengers we need you to carry."

"Passengers?" Kirk cocked his head. "Are we running some kind of tour service these days?"

"There's some unusual activity in the Arcturan system," Richards said quietly. "I'd like to send a small team out to do some talking and find out more about it."

"Small team?" Kirk was suspicious.

"Four officers and two trainees," Nogura said quickly. "And it's all strictly routine."

"I've heard that before." Kirk did not waver.

"Look," Nogura smiled. "You'll deliver your supplies, the intelligence officers will do their jobs, and then when you're all done you'll report to Starbase K4 for your next assignment. They'll remain there and another ship will pick them up. You won't even notice they're there. "

"This is a good team," Richards added. "It won't take them long."

"Admiral," Kirk turned to Nogura. "Did you know that my CMO was fired on as he was leaving a bar with an intelligence agent?" Kirk thumbed towards Richards.

Nogura sat back. "McCoy? No, I didn't know that. Ted, was one of your agents out with a Doctor McCoy last night?"

"I wasn't aware, no," Richards shook his head. "But then again I can't really be expected to keep track of all my officers' whereabouts."

"Jim," Nogura looked back at Kirk. "I'll look into it. But in the meantime, I'll get a roster of names for you as soon as they're declassified. You'll ship out as soon as everyone's packed up and ready to go.

Kirk stood, and paused a moment. "You realize that every time you've told me something is routine, it turns out to be a fiasco?"

"This time," Richards stood and faced him. "You have the Intelligence office to blame for any fiascos."

"Admiral," Kirk lifted his chin. "I look forward to the opportunity."

Kirk remained nonplussed on his way back to his apartment. He now had an inspection scheduled, and the Intelligence Office had promised him a crew roster for their temporary transfer to the Enterprise.

McCoy was up and pacing when he got back. "Well? What's the word?"

"We ship out in two days, delivering Medical Supplies to Starbases in the Arcturan system. And we are carrying a small bevy of spies."

"Spies?"

"Temporary Transfer, and they'll be investigating some unusual activity in the Arcturan System." Kirk stopped and pointed at McCoy. "And I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that your little friend is involved in this."

"Jim," McCoy laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but she hates Starships. If she got wind that she'd be on a temporary transfer, for any reason, she'd do her best to back out of it. She's happier earthside, trust me."

"Well, nobody in the intelligence office wants to give me a list of names that are on that transfer." Kirk stepped to the servitor and ordered coffee. "I've got an inspection this afternoon. Want to join me?"

McCoy threw his hands up in the air. "Like I have anything better to do?

Carter stepped into her office and surveyed her desk. There were a few new papers there, along with a manilla envelope marked "Classified." She swore quietly and glanced over at Fisher's desk. An identical envelope had been dropped there, too.

She opened it roughly, tearing the top completely off. "Goddamn glue," she swore again.

The trainee behind her glanced over.

"You have been assigned to temporary transfer aboard the Enterprise,'" she read aloud disgustedly. "To investigate an existing case in the Arcturan system. Blah, blah, blah. "

"Isn't that classified material?" the trainee asked sheepishly.

"What, you wouldn't notice I was gone?" she shot back. "Fisher's going with me. It's not going to be classified for long," she hit a button on her comm. "Get me Admiral Richards," she said sharply.

Richards appeared on the screen, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture. "Addy, I'm sorry. I know that you wanted to do this yourself, but the entire agency felt a lot safer with you having some backup. The Enterprise was being assigned to that sector anyway, so it just made sense."

"I needed more time, sir. The contacts we have made are sketchy at best. If we just show up on their doorstep now, they'll be suspicious. They may tell us to screw off, sir."

"Judging by the correspondence you've shown me, there are at least two that are overeager to get you over there."

"And there are six that aren't. Do you want me to concentrate on those two? Because the two that you're talking about aren't my hottest leads."

Richards sighed. "Try to wrap up your hot leads. Let them know you're coming over in a way that won't arouse suspicion on their part."

"I'll do my best, sir," Carter shook her head. "Carter out." She clicked off the comm. And turned to the trainee. "Okay, pull up all my correspondence with suspects four, eight and twelve."

"Aye, sir," the trainee shifted quickly into business mode.


	3. Chapter 3

Aboard the Enterprise, Kirk stepped onto the bridge and met Spock. "You're back," he said quickly. "How was Dakota?"

"I have been back for some time, sir. Dakota was most intriguing. My mother seems to favor it." Spock said flatly.

"Do you favor it?" Kirk tried.

"I do not favor one place over another. Each place has its unique characteristics."

"Of course," Kirk nodded. "What do you think of this assignment? Carting a crew of spies halfway across the galaxy," he trailed off.

"As I understand it, our primary assignment is to deliver medical supplies. The intelligence agents will function largely independent of us." Spock said.

"Where have we heard that before?" Kirk turned to the helm.

McCoy stepped onto the bridge from the turbolift. "Spock!" he said quickly. "When did you get here?"

"I have been here since yesterday," Spock's calm belied his frustration at his crewmate's shock and awe at his return. "As the ship's repairs are complete, I have been aboard for the past 48 hours."

"Of course you have," McCoy stepped down to Kirk. "Sickbay seems ready as she'll ever be. When do we ship out?"

"Wednesday morning, 0800 hours." Kirk sighed. "Right at rush hour. I requested an earlier departure, but apparently the spies need the extra time."

"And we still don't know who they are?" McCoy asked.

"The crew roster has been declassified to us, and available for viewing," Spock interjected.

"You knew all this time?" Kirk said in mock anger. "Well, put it on main viewer!"

They faced the viewer as a list of names faded into view.

Kirk pointed harshly. "Lieutenant Commander Addy Carter! I knew it!"

"Jim," McCoy said, shaking his head.

"Request a transfer," Kirk stepped to his chair and sat down. He looked at McCoy and there was a pause. "Anything you want to tell me, Bones? Because I know the two of you met up that night."

"Jim, she couldn't tell me much. But I can practically guarantee that she didn't know much about this, because all she said to me was that they were planning an investigative mission within the next few months. I'll be she's as surprised as we are."

"Tomorrow?" Fisher shouted into the comm.. "We can't possibly have this done by tomorrow!"

The once peaceful office had been thrown into chaos. Open trunks were everywhere, spilling clothes and equipment onto the floor. Carter sat at her station and typed in silent anger. The trainees padded quietly around them, trying to pack and follow orders to continue correspondence with the leading suspects.

"Ah, sir?" a trainee came up to Carter.

"Hm?" she didn't look up.

"Suspect eight is asking me to send a credit transfer before he'll agree to a meeting. He's being very adamant."

"How much does he want?"

"400 credits."

"That's a lot. Tell him we talk first, or no deal. Stay in control. Okay?" Carter did her best to be patient with them, but it was difficult. "Tell him we talk first, and to get his lawyer to contact us about the meeting. I want everyone there."

"Yes, sir," the trainee stepped away and back to his station.

Carter stopped and rubbed her eyes.

Fisher looked over. "You all right, Ad?"

"Yup. Think we'll make the deadline?"

Fisher shook his head. "No. We'll be wrapping some of these up en route. I've asked that the Enterprise be given access to our communication channels."

"Oh, God," Carter laid her head on her desk.

"It's the only way," Fisher shrugged.

The door chimed, and with her head buried in her arms Carter began to shout. "What now? What could possibly happen now?" She didn't notice Fisher and the trainees snap to attention.

She looked up to see Admiral Richards stroll into the office. She stood quickly, hoping that her comments would blow over, but Richards stepped to her desk sternly.

"Lieutenant," he barked. "I know that you are not happy about these events, but you have no option in this matter. I will hear of no further complaints from you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Hm," Richards stepped away. "I came by to give you all a few final words. To wish you luck."

"Permission to speak, sir," Carter said quickly.

"Denied!" Richards shot back. "Especially after that little outburst just now. What if I had been Ambassador Sarek? How embarrassing," Richards clucked his tongue.

"Permission to speak, sir," Fisher tried his hand.

"No!" Richards flustered. "I can't give you any more time! The schedules are the way they are and there's nothing that anyone can do about it! If I could give you another hour, I could, but I can't!"

Carter and Fisher glanced at each other.

Richards stepped back and sighed. "I know you'll do good work. Come home safely. That is all," he said it quickly, as though he didn't want any further interruptions from them. He turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the office without another word.

"He knows that we're struggling to get on that boat on time," Fisher shook his head. "He knows that we wanted another two weeks to do this."

"I don't want to talk about it any more," Carter sat back down and went back to work.

Kirk looked over the cargo bay as the boxes and antigrav units were being loaded in. The officers worked quickly and efficiently, for a crew that had spent the past two weeks loafing.

He sighed and turned to the comm. Panel. "Spock, how soon can we expect the cargo transfer to be complete?"

Spock's voice came over the panel. "The final shuttle of supplies is awaiting deployment. Estimating completion of cargo transfer within three hours."

"So, we'll be ready to go a full eight hours ahead of our scheduled departure?"

"Affirmative."

"And still no word from our passengers?"

"Negative. None of the officers have checked in," Spock said calmly. "And none have scheduled arrival times."

"Of course," Kirk started to press the button to close the communication, but Uhura piped over.

"Pardon me, sir, but I couldn't help but overhear,"

"Go ahead, Lieutenant. Have you heard anything?"

"Yes, sir. The Enterprise has been given access to ten previously secure channels for use during this mission. The name on the Access Request was a Lieutenant Jonathan Fisher."

"Sir," Spock said. "Lieutenant Fisher is one of the commanding partners of the intelligence gathering mission."

"Understood," Kirk blinked. "I think. I'm on my way back up."

He turned to leave, when there was a commotion on the deck. He turned and saw, through the protective barrier between the cargo bay doors and the vastness of space, what appeared to be a civilian scout hovering as though she were waiting for access.

He jumped for the lift and slid down the rails in his haste. He jumped on the comm. Between his ship and the stranger, and barked, "This is a Starfleet ship! What in the hell are you doing?"

"This is Ensign Karen Battaglia of the Office of Starfleet Intelligence," came a female voice. "I'm reporting for duty, and I have some cargo to drop off."

Kirk flustered. "Reporting for duty? Don't they teach you any protocol in that office?"

Uhura's calm voice came over the comm. "Ensign Battaglia, this is Enterprise. We do not have you scheduled for arrival. Please explain."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Battaglia's voice did not waver. "Lieutenant Fisher should have called and scheduled my arrival."

There was a brief pause as Kirk tried to contain his anger and Uhura was sifting through communications. "I have no record of that," Uhura seemed to smile through it all. "But I think we can accommodate you in the Shuttle Bay. Please prepare for Tractor Beam, we can take you in from where you are."

"Thank you."

Kirk clenched his fists and headed for the lift.

Once back on the bridge, he went to Uhura. "What in the hell happened out there? Why was she in a civilian scout, of all things?"

Spock looked up. "Intelligence officers are routinely given civilian class scouts. We are ordered to accommodate the scouts of Ensign Battaglia, Lieutenant Fisher, and Lieutenant Commander Carter in our cargo bay, so they may continue their work."

Kirk flustered briefly, searching for words. "Then where are my shuttlecraft? My Starfleet shuttlecraft?" He emphasized the word _Starfleet_.

Before Spock could answer, a black haired ensign in the black trim of the OSFI arrived on the bridge. "Good evening, sirs," she chirruped. "Ensign Battaglia, requesting permission to come aboard."

"You are aboard, or haven't you noticed?" Kirk looked her over.

"No one met me on the shuttlebay floor, so I came here, sir," she explained briefly.

"Spock," Kirk turned quickly. "Make a note. From now on, all the intelligence officers will be met on the shuttlebay floor. No more unexpected visits to the bridge," he glared, and then turned to Battaglia. "Your quarters have been assigned, but I'll have my yeoman show you." He then stepped to his conn and sat without another word.

Uhura cleared her throat. "You're on deck ten. I know where they are. Captain," she looked over. "May I show the ensign to her quarters?"

"Assuming you have no other duties to attend to, yes." Kirk didn't turn. He secretly hoped she had a mountainous workload to attend to, but it was spacedock after all.

Uhura stood and shook the Ensign's hand. "Good evening, Ensign. I'm Lieutenant Uhura. I'll show you to your quarters."

"Wonderful. Thank you, " the ensign smiled warmly.

Uhura guided the young ensign out, and Kirk stared straight ahead in his frustration.

"Sir," Spock turned.

"What is it, Spock?" Kirk rubbed his brow.

"A schedule of arrivals has just arrived from OSFI headquarters. The remaining Ensign and the two trainees are scheduled to arrive within the hour. Lieutenant Commander Carter is to arrive at 2200 hours. Lieutenant Fisher is to arrive no later than 2400 hours."

"I guess they're trying to get a good night's sleep in," Kirk stood. "What time is it now?"

"1730 hours," Spock glanced at the chronometer.

"Well," Kirk glanced around. "I'm going to catch some dinner. Care to join me?"

Spock nodded an affirmative and the two of them stepped off the bridge.

Fisher closed the last Pelican case and flipped the latches. "Ok, Ad. I've told them you'll be there by 2200." He handed her the case and she stowed it in the last remaining space between her passenger seat and the console.

They paused and looked at each other. Carter sighed and glanced around the empty bay. All of the staff had gone home, and their footsteps and voices had been echoing all evening. "You ready for this?" she asked.

Fisher shrugged. "We can just hope for the best. You hungry? Or do you just want to go?"

"I think I'll just go." She pursed her lips and straightened her jacket. "I don't think I could eat if I wanted to."

"All right. I'll be right behind you." He started to turn and then quickly looked back. "You didn't hear anything about cabin assignments, did you?"

"No, but gauging from the attitudes coming off the Enterprise crew, we may just have a tent in the shuttlebay," she smiled. She gave a final wave and closed her scout door. The engine hummed, and she lifted vertically off the bay floor and into the night sky.

Fisher sighed and looked at his own scout. He glanced underneath, and saw a slow drip of coolant onto the spotless floor. He swore silently, and reached for the tool case.


	4. Chaper 4

McCoy strode quickly to the Shuttlebay, hoping to beat Spock to it. The double doors slid open and he saw Spock standing quietly while Carter was tossing cases and boxes to waiting crewmen. She was out of uniform, wearing a suede short jacket and jeans. "These can just go to Briefing Room 3," she said quickly. "We are in Briefing Room 3, right?" she glanced up at Spock.

"Negative. We have changed your temporary office assignment. You are now in Briefing Room 5." Spock didn't move.

Carter looked at him. "And where exactly is that?"

"Deck Thirteen," he responded.

"You're not giving us a very auspicious start," she smiled, and hopped off her craft to the bay floor. "And what about cabin assignments?"

Spock looked at her for a moment. "Lieutenant, I must ask that you be in uniform while serving aboard this vessel."

She took off her hat and grinned. "All right. Then can I ask where my quarters are, so that I can change?"

"Your quarters are on deck ten, Cabin 85. With a window, as requested." Spock did not move.

"Forgive me, Commander Spock," she said with a forced patience. "But I always get lost on Starships. Would you please show me to my quarters?"

McCoy stepped up before Spock could deliver the blow. "I'll take you, Addy. I think the Captain is looking for you on the bridge, Spock."

As Spock stepped away, she slipped her hat back on and turned for her suitcase.

"Don't take Spock too personally," McCoy said quickly. "He's just following protocol. According to rank," he started.

"According to rank he doesn't have to show me anywhere," Carter finished. "I just thought he'd be nice."

"He's a Vulcan." McCoy grinned and shrugged. "Can I carry something?"

"Nah, just the one is coming with me," she held the small suitcase. "But you should see all the other crap we had to pack."

They walked the hall to the turbolift. "Deck Ten," McCoy said aloud.

"I got that part," Carter said quickly.

"Do you want to be wandering Deck Ten all night?" he joked back.

Carter smiled and the doors slid open.

"Left," McCoy pointed. "And it's not far. You should be tired."

"I am. But I do want to check in with the Captain before I hide in my quarters."

"Well, Jim is under the impression that the OSFI is staffed by a bunch of," McCoy started, but Carter cut him off.

"Don't. Finish." She shook her head. "This was sprung on us, that's all. I wasn't anticipating doing this for another month or two. We're all a little thrown. Hopefully I can show him otherwise."

"Good Luck!" McCoy pointed to a door, which opened for them.

She looked around and sighed. "So small," she tossed her suitcase on the bed. She flipped the latches and opened it to a neatly folded maroon uniform on top.

"It's a standard size," McCoy sat at the desk and propped his feet up. "Or perhaps you were looking for the deluxe suite?"

"Is the penthouse free?" she smiled, and stepped into the washroom to change in privacy. "Do you always just make yourself at home like this?"

"Well, these cabins all look alike, so I sometimes get confused."

She stepped out; her uniform jacket hanging open, her civilian clothes draped over her arm. She tossed them on the bed and rummaged a small knife from her suitcase and slipped it into a hidden sheath on her calf.

"Are you always armed?" McCoy pointed.

"Well, all crazies tend to look alike, sometimes I get confused," she gave him sly wink. "I'm going to find the bridge."

"I'll go with you." McCoy stood. "What are you doing after that?"

She sucked on a tooth for a moment. "I'd like to get a little drunk, now that I'm here."

McCoy grinned. "Well, I don't know about the 'drunk' part. We tend to frown upon that up here."

"Yeah, they tend to frown on that down there, too," she nodded and buttoned her jacket the rest of the way up.

"But I think I can set you and your partner up when he gets here."

They stepped back out to the turbolift and headed up to the bridge. When the door opened, the Captian and Spock were talking quietly. Kirk turned and saw them, and crossed his arms in anticipation. "Good evening, Lieutenant."

"Reporting for duty, sir," she said stiffly.

"Welcome aboard," Kirk eyed her carefully.

"Sir, I'd like to sincerely apologize for the confusion we've created in recent days. I can assure that the rest of this mission will go smoothly." And she stopped there.

"Hm," Kirk looked at McCoy, who leaned against the railing. "No sob story, Lieutenant?"

"I have no sob stories, sir. As for an explanation; if you want one, I'd be happy to provide it in a less public place." She remained cordial, yet formal.

"I see," Kirk raised an eyebrow at McCoy, who shrugged. "Well, I must say that you've gotten off to a rocky start at best. But you may have time to make it up to me."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"Very well. Is that all, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." She stood and waited to be dismissed.

Kirk stepped behind her and spoke over her shoulder. "If that is all from you, Lieutenant, then I just want you to know that very few of my dealings with the OSFI have been pleasant. This instance is shaping up to be a lot worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." And then she turned to face him. "I cannot speak for the actions of officers with whom I am not acquainted. I can only speak for my team and myself. You have my personal assurance that our mission will be contained and carried out with the highest regard for you and your ship's reputation. Sir."

Kirk was silent for a moment. "Well, if I have your personal assurance,"

"You do, sir."

He nodded. "Then let me extend an invitation to you and Lieutenant Fisher; dinner with the senior staff. Tomorrow night after we're underway. We'll say, 1900 hours."

"I accept, sir. On behalf of myself and Lieutenant Fisher."

"Very well," Kirk straightened. "Dismissed."

Carter turned to leave, but Uhura stopped her. "Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Fisher has sent a message that he will be unable to report until tomorrow morning."

Carter sighed, as though every word she had spoken had been rendered moot. "I'll call him from my cabin. Thank you." She turned to the lift.

"Personal assurance," Kirk said after her.

"Minor setback," she said as the lift doors closed. As the lift hurtled down, she leaned her forehead against the cool metal and swore.

In her cabin, she called up the OSFI Shuttle Bay.

"Addy, I'm sorry. But the coolant leak has to be contained. I can't fly with it like this, and I can't make the repair myself. It has to wait until morning."

"Do you realize that this ship takes off at 0800 hours?"

Fisher shook his head. "Addy, I've got an emergency repair crew in here at 0600. That's the best they could do. If I don't make it, I'll catch up with you somehow."

"Why in the hell do they force us off before we're ready and then not give us the support staff we need?" she was practically shouting.

"It'll be all right, Addy, just relax. I'll make it out there."

The door chimed. "Wait a damn minute!" she shouted. "Look, I just gave Captain Kirk my word that we'd pull this off. Now I look like a boob, do you realize that?"

McCoy strode in and sat down on the chair opposite the desk.

"Ad, everything's going to be all right." Fisher spoke calmly. "I'll be there in time for the staff meeting. Try to get some sleep. Fisher out," and the comm ended.

She sat down heavily and rubbed her eyes. "Fuck."

"You want that drink now?"

"I don't know," she said, not looking up.

"Come on, doctor's orders," he stood. "You need it."

"Don't tell me they've taken to serving liquor aboard starships," she glanced up.

"No, but I've got a personal stash in my quarters," he grinned. "Whatever happens will happen. And it's going to happen in the morning."

She stood up. "You're right."

"And a little nightcap might help you get some sleep tonight," McCoy said as they walked out together.

Chekov sat in his quarters and looked at the new message before him. "I thank you most graciously for your offer of assistance, and I look forward to meeting with you soon," the text read.

He breathed a small sigh, and smiled a little. The door chime rang and Sulu stepped in. "Hey, Pavel. I thought you wanted to catch a workout before bed," he noticed the screen. "Is this your latest pen pal?" Sulu turned the screen around and read briefly. "Are you meeting this person on Arcturus?" he asked suddenly. "I don't think the Captain would authorize shore leave on that place."

"He may, when I tell him it's to help this woman and her family seek asylum in Federation Space," Chekov smiled and shrugged.

"Asylum from who? Have you run this by anyone? Spock, maybe?"

"Asylum from Orion slave traders, and she tells me that I can't tell anyone. We have to do this absolutely secretly, else someone would find out," Chekov said, wrapped up in espionage. "If I help her, she will give me twenty five thousand credits. It works well for everyone."

Sulu shook his head. "I don't know. It sounds a little fishy, if you ask me. But we're taking some intelligence agents to that system. I don't know what for, but maybe they're after slave traders."

Chekov nodded in certainty. "They usually are. Maybe we can help them out with this information."

"When should we tell them?"

"I'll ask her," Chekov pointed to the screen. "She may be excited to know that we're bringing agents to the sector."

Sulu stood up. "Well, let me know what she says."

"And remember," Chekov looked up. "We have to keep this to ourselves."

Sulu nodded, and backed out of the room. But he could not shake the misgivings in his belly.

"Do you remember how I found you?" McCoy drawled and laughed.

Sickbay was dark and quiet, except for McCoy's office, which was brightly lit and had been filled with laughter for the past hour. The two of them had drunk a bottle of brandy, fully a quarter of McCoy's stash for the mission.

"I try not to think about it," she smiled. Her uniform jacket was open and her hair was down. "I was so stupid. Why I thought I could take on an Orion, a pissed off Orion at that…" she tilted back another shot. "I can't believe you didn't call my CO."

"I thought you'd disappear," McCoy waved. "And then you'd head to one of the station docs, and then they'd 've sewn your hand to your head or something," he finished off his shot glass and poured them both another.

"That's enough!" she grabbed the neck of the bottle to stop him from pouring. "I'm chairing the meeting in the morning, remember?"

"That's what happens when you get promoted to goddamn Lieutenant Commander," McCoy drank. "You get to chair a goddamn meeting that I have to be at."

"Pardon me," she drank hers, and then snorted and laughed helplessly. "Oh, god, the captain thinks I'm the biggest boob on the ship right now," she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Nope," McCoy poured her another shot. "That's my job."

"Okay, if you pour me one more, I'm going to have to take you outside," she thumbed towards the door.

McCoy laughed. "You do that. And once you put me in a big 'ol padded spacesuit, you can kick my ass all over creation."

She laughed again and held up the glass. "No more," and she tilted back the last shot.

"Ad," McCoy said suddenly. "I'll bet you're a hell of an intelligence officer."

"What are you _talking_ about?" she asked in a slur.

"You've had more to drink than me, and yet you still won't talk about anything but your mission."

She looked up. "What, this is some kind of plot? What do you want to know?"

"You and Fisher," he started.

"No," she answered before he could ask. "We're not. Never have. Never will."

"Is that a mutual decision?"

"Yup," she nodded, and sighed heavily. She stood up and grabbed the table for support. "I gotta go."

"Where?"

"Where do you think?" her voice rose. "What, do you freakin' sleep here? I'm going to bed." She turned and started for the door, grasping biobeds as she walked.

"You're going to run out of beds in a minute," McCoy called after her.

"Thank god there's a doctor here," she called back, and tried not to laugh. "I'll see you in the morning."


	5. Chapter 5

Four hours later McCoy awoke in his quarters, still in his clothes from the previous day. He groaned and sat up slowly. He vaguely remembered staggering to his door, but not much else. Fortunately the cabin assignments left him close to Sickbay.

He rubbed his forehead and cursed Carter. The empty brandy bottle was on his desk, he had had the good sense to take it with him and remove the incriminating evidence from the scene of the crime. Now if only he could shake this headache.

He looked in the mirror and decided that a new uniform was in order, and also a shave. There wasn't much he could do about the bags under his eyes. He glanced at the clock; 0630 hours. He blinked, and pressed a comm button. "McCoy to bridge,"

"Sampsell, here," answered the communications officer on duty.

"Has an officer by the name of Fisher arrived onboard yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

Before the officer could expound on it, McCoy clicked off and hurredly changed for the staff meeting.

He jogged down the hall, thinking that a sudden blood rush might help, and knowing that there would be black coffee at any staff meeting held this early in the morning. Turning a corner, he ran full tilt into Spock. "Jesus, sorry, Spock," he blinked and held his thumping head.

Spock nodded. "Are you in some kind of hurry, doctor? Are you all right?"

"Yes and no," McCoy breathed heavily, which was a little embarassing. "I'm fine."

Spock cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at the cryptic answer.

"I'm fine, Spock," McCoy repeated. "I thought I was running late."

"If you are going to the Staff Meeting for the presentation on the Intelligence Gathering mission, you are not late. We can proceed together."

"Great, Spock. Great. Thank you," McCoy nodded and hoped that Spock wouldn't look past his facade.

Together they strode down the hallway of Deck 13 to the forgotten Briefing Room at the end of the hall. A few empty Pelican cases were stacked outside and marked for storage; the agents had been busy last night.

The door opened and Karen Battaglia glanced up. "Oh, you're early," she breathed. She darted up and began setting out diskettes around the table for all the attendees. "I wasn't expecting you," she said quickly.

"Quite all right," McCoy sat down. "Where's Carter?"

"Said she was looking for some decent coffee, but other than that I haven't heard from her," Battaglia set down the last diskette and looked around. "Can someone page Yeoman Rand and ask her were our PADDS are? She was supposed to bring them." She turned her back to the men.

McCoy glanced around before sitting. There were clothes hanging from racks and a few new pieces of machinery. He didn't have the time to ask about them.

Carter walked in with a tray of a steaming pot and a few cups. "Okay, this is the one and only time that I am sharing this." She looked up and saw McCoy. "Good morning, sunshine." She poured him a cup of a thick black liquid and set it in front of him.

"This is coffee?" McCoy tilted the cup. "Is this some kind of OSFI special blend?"

"No, it's Honduran coffee. Made the old fashioned way. Where's our PADDS?" she looked around the table. "Mr. Spock?" she offered Spock a cup, but he politely refused.

McCoy sipped the coffee and the harsh bitterness enveloped his mouth and shocked away any hangover that he might have had. He swallowed hard and blinked.

Rand entered and handed Battaglia a stack of PADDS, which were then distributed alongside the diskettes.

Carter opened a small folio and set out a presentation folder. "Any word from Fisher?"

"He sent a comm up awhile ago and gave an ETA of one hour," a second ensign spoke up.

" 'Awhile ago'?" Carter repeated, her eyes narrowing.

"It was a half hour ago, Lieutenant," Karen said quickly. "He'll be here before we leave Spacedock."

"Oh," she sat down and drank her coffee.

"May I inquire as to the trouble, Lieutenant?" Spock asked.

"He needed repairs to his scout. He wanted to get it done before we left," she said.

"Scotty could have done it for you," McCoy offered.

"Could have, but we're not supposed to be asking you for assistance," she said, shutting off the conversation.

The doors opened, and Kirk and Scott walked in. Kirk straightened. "All right. It is my understanding that this is going to be an easy one for you folks. Let's hope that Starfleet is right, for once." He looked around, sniffing. "What smells so damn good?"

Ensign Battaglia poured him a cup of the rich coffee and handed it to him with a smile.

"We'll just start," Carter stood and motioned at two chairs. "If that's all right with you, sir."

"You're a man short," Kirk noticed.

"He's on his way, sir. I expect him shortly," Carter said quickly, glossing it over.

She sat down after Kirk and Scott had settled in with her coffee and pressed a button. The letters, "419" appeared on the screen behind her.

"Gentlemen, we have been sent on an intelligence gathering mission to the Arcturan System to investigate what appears to be the latest incarnation of what is known as the 419 Scam. The 419 is named after the Nigerian Penal code under which scammers were punished," she spoke drily.

"Nigeria was a nation in central Africa, disbanded in the late 21st century," Spock interjected.

"Good history," Carter paused. "But we're getting to that.

"There are legends of the 419 Scam dating back to the Dark Ages. A peasant would approach a victim and say that the King's son had been kidnapped, and he knew the kidnappers. If the victim would only give him all his money, then they could pay the ransom and the two of them would be richly rewarded by the king. We all know how that story ends," she smiled and pressed the button again, revealing a page of text.

"The 419 scam continued into the 20th Century with the fax, or facsimile, machine. Scammers would fax potential victims, claiming to be the long lost heir to some long lost fortune. Some of them would even threaten physical harm if the victim did not pay."

"What does Nigeria have to do with any of this?" asked Kirk.

"I'm getting to that," Carter didn't want to stray from her prepared presentation. "But 419 came into it's own with the advent of electronic mail in the late 20th century. Scammers would set up a base in an internet café or library, cull email addresses by the thousands, and email potential victims en masse. Most of these scammers were based in Nigeria, and sometimes claimed to be government or banking officials. Some of them were. Some of them claimed to be relatives of recently deposed presidents or other high ranking officials

"There were a couple variations on the theme, but most of them revolved around the victim surrendering their bank account information so the scammer could deposit in mythical millions of dollars. Once the victim helped the scammer, they were promised a portion of the millions," Carter paused, looking for questions.

"And once the account information was given, the lads took all the money from the account and ran," Scott nodded.

"Ah, but no," Carter shook her head. "These lads were too smart for that. They were actually running a side con. The bank account information didn't matter, as we can see from records of 'scam baiters', who apparently toyed with these people for fun," she smiled. "What mattered were fees. Lawyer fees, bank fees, transfer fees. Some of these folks would even hit up their victims for hotel charges. And as long as the victim would pay, there was a fee. In those days there was a service called Western Union, which functioned a lot like our Credit Booster. It was a quick and clean way to send cash overseas."

Kirk scoffed at the text scrolling by on his PADD. "The grammar alone on this is unbelievable. Let alone the very idea that someone would be privy to a bank account worth 115 Million US Dollars. People fell for this?"

"Enough people fell for this that at one time it was the largest industry in Nigeria," she nodded.

McCoy looked up. "You said something about a penal code. Weren't these people punished?"

"There were so many government officials in on the scam, it was practically impossible to catch everyone who was in on it," Battaglia spoke up.

"Yup," Carter nodded. "So. For the most part it was a clean scam. You send them as much cash as you can, thinking that you're going to get some millions, and they disappear into the night. They're hundreds of miles away and no one gets hurt. That's how it operated most of the time."

Kirk set down his PADD, and waited for the inevitable catch that Nogura and Richards had failed to let him in on.

"Occasionally, however," Carter continued. "Things got sticky. Some scammers got greedy. They would trick a victim into traveling to Nigeria or wherever, mostly Nigeria, in order to 'sign some papers' or 'make a statement'," she waved her hands around indicating nonsense. " The victim would be kidnapped at the airport, taken to god knows where and held for ransom. There were a few deaths associated with this," Carter said, and pressed a button.

A face appeared on the screen, a Rigillian Ambassador. "This is Ambassador Mulao. Three weeks ago he entered into a communication with suspected 419 scammers and traveled to Arcturus to meet with them. We have not heard from him since."

There was a pause. "And what are your plans concerning the Ambassador?" Kirk asked.

"We are to pinpoint his location and bring him back," she said simply. "My theory on the subject is that he walked into Arcturus loaded with cash, got mugged and was dropped off somewhere."

Kirk tapped a stylus on the table. "Well this doesn't explain my message, Lieutenant."

"Captain, there's a lot of violence that goes on at the Arcturan surface. It wouldn't be too hard to fake stuff like that," she shook her head.

Kirk sighed, and glanced around.

The door opened and Fisher appeared, buttoning his uniform. "Sorry I'm late, sirs," he looked around and didn't see an empty chair. "Looks like I'll be standing," he grinned.

Carter stood. "This is my partner, Jonathan Fisher. Ensigns Karen Battaglia and Mike Brown, who are serving as our support staff for this mission. Our two trainees, Paul Price and Sharon Engram." The officers and trainees stood as their names were called; the ensigns wearing maroon jackets with black underneath, and the trainees in jumpsuits with black trim. All of them wore the OSFI insignia. "You can all sit."

Price offered his chair to Fisher, who refused it.

"Over the past few months, Batty, Fisher and myself have intercepted and initiated communications with likely scammers and arranged meetings with them on Acturus. All under aliases, of course. In this way, we hope to locate the Ambassador as well as pinpoint and stop these messages flowing into the UFP and Starfleet. They're annoying everyone," she hit the button for a final time and the screen behind her went dark.

"Is that all?" McCoy asked.

"That's it. If you were hoping for cloak and dagger, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed," Carter leaned back in her chair. "But all the same, this is classified material. You don't have anything to add, do you, Fisher?" she asked.

"No, it's pretty much a gathering mission. Gathering intelligence and ambassadors," he joked.

Kirk didn't smile.

Carter stood up quickly. "That's it. Hopefully we can stay out of each other's hair."

"Well," Kirk stood slowly. "We have three weeks to deliver the medical supplies throughout the system, and Richards insists that this will be plenty of time."

"It will be," she nodded.

The overhead comm. Sounded, and Uhura's voice came into the room. "Attention personnel, thirty minutes to Spacedock departure. Repeat, thirty minutes to Spacedock departure. Captain to the bridge."

Kirk sighed. "Doctor? Spock? Shall we?"

McCoy and Spock stood and walked out with Kirk.

"So what do you make of it, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"The officers seem confident, even though they are disorganized."

"I knew there was something missing from Nogura's little briefing," Kirk scowled as the turbolift door closed.

"Well, Jim, if anything happens it's their beans and not ours," McCoy folded his arms.

"True enough."

The turbolift opened to the bridge, where the departure proceedings had been causing a flurry of activity and excitement. Upon Kirk's arrival, a calm settled over the chaos, as though his mere presence could influence a smooth departure.

"Enterprise, this is Spacedock, doors are open and you have permission to depart," a friendly female voice chimed over the loudspeaker.

"Thank you, Spacedock," Kirk sat down in his chair and grabbed at the armrests possessively. "Full thrusters, Mister Sulu."

"Full thrusters, aye sir," Sulu acknowledged.

The ship hummed and pressed gently forward, as the confining walls of spacedock began to move past. Within passing windows, restaurant patrons waved good-bye or raised their wine glasses.

All eyes on the bridge were rapt to the main viewer as gray walls slipped away and a vast field of stars came into view. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief and anticipation when the starfield was complete.

"Set course for the Arcturan System, warp factor one. No rush," Kirk said.

"Course plotted and set," Chekov turned the dial at his station, arcing the ship's course through space.

"Warp factor one," Sulu pressed a button. The starfield streaked momentarily, and then gave way to gently passing stars.

Kirk huffed, and turned to McCoy. "Don't you have something to do?"

The bridge crew turned to their tasks, the show over and the moment gone.

McCoy looked around. "Yeah, I guess so. You know where I'll be, Jim." He turned and disappeared into the turbolift.

Spock had turned and was studying a star chart when Kirk came up behind him. "Do you have some plans for this mission? I can't think of much for a science officer to be doing on a delivery run," Kirk tapped the console.

"Our increased level of Security has given me access to previously classified reports," Spock explained. "I am wondering why there are reports of increased piracy across the Romulan border."

Kirk looked at the chart and saw the dotted red lines commonly known as piracy routes, and blue dotted lines that indicated new routes. There were more blue lines than red. "I don't know. I wonder if the intelligence agents are working on that."

"There was no mention of piracy in Lieutenant Carter's report."

Kirk stepped back and shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't get too far into it Spock. You can read it, but ultimately it's the intelligence division's problem."

Spock nodded, but returned to the chart all the same.

In Briefing Room 5, Fisher looked around at the tiny space, already filling up with their equipment and supplies. "I don't think they could have made this any smaller."

"You should see your quarters," Carter said. "I woke up last night in a fit of claustrophobia." She straightened and stretched her back. "The captain extended an invitation to dinner tonight."

Fisher raised a brow. "Really? What are we having?"

Carter made a face. "Well, I don't think it's going to be prime rib."

"I don't know," Karen said cheerfully. "I've heard some nice things about chefs on starships."

"They only get professional chefs when there's an important person on board," Fisher grinned, and hung a dusty coat on a rack. "Trust me, we aren't that important."

"It's also Senior Staff," Carter looked at her small crew. "So, sorry guys."

Ensign Brown tapped at the main viewscreen in the room, calling up the aft camera. Earth lazily pulled away, and Mars crossed into the screen. "There she goes," he sighed.

"Three weeks, tops," Carter said quickly. "We'll be back in a nice quiet office in no time."


	6. Chapter 6

Arcturus spun slowly on an exaggerated axis, throwing its two moons around itself like cheap jewelry. Dirty and pockmarked ships of every size flew in and out of the orbit around the planet, dropping off or picking up unmentionable cargo or just to check in with unmentionable friends.

A battered scout, not classed for interstellar travel, made its way haltingly towards the planetary system. Its arrival had been delayed due to an unexpected run-in with some authorities on Earth. The pilot of the scout watched his chronometer closely and swore under his breath. He knew that his boss was waiting, and had been kept waiting. And there would be the matter of the brief questioning he had undergone and the fine he had had to pay on earth. Several indicator lights blinked on the console indicating a myriad of problems with his engine and exhaust systems, but he pressed his scout onwards as fast as it could rattle forward.

The Arcturian Port Authority called on his comm, but he waved them away with a password and a promise of credits. He piloted the scout to the surface of the dusty planet, and his scout's thrusters gave out a foot from the ground. He fell the short distance with a damaging thud, and he heard the aft fender fall off, rattlingto the makeshift landing pad. The door fell open and he jumped off the scout, a cloud of dust swirling at his feet. He pressed a few bars of pressed latinum into the grubby hands of a waiting attendant, and jogged to the Scimed Sienna Bar.

He opened the doors of the hazy bar and looked over the crowd. Lamps hung from the ceiling, lighting tables where the deals were made on paper. In the corners where none dared to glance there were shadier figures discussing terms in low voices. On the tables danced a few tired girls in dirty costume for the few men who were paying attention. In any bar on Arcturus there was the expectation of a dancing girl or two, regardless of the primary unspoken business of the establishment. The lack of a dancing girl would have aroused suspicion on the most lawless planet in the known galaxy.

From a dark corner there was a wave and a low whistle. The pilot made his way over, hunching his shoulders to hide his face as he pressed past the tables. He sat down and looked over at the scaled face of his business partner. They had only met face to face twice, and this was the second time.

"What newssss?" asked the scaled alien in a sharp lisp?

"The Enterprise has been assigned to make the deliveries. We have a potential man on board."

"Excellent," the alien leaned back and smiled. "Progress is being made. Where is your partner?"

The pilot coughed nervously and waved to the bartender for a drink. "He was delayed. I will return to Earth to pick him up."

"Delayed? And how can you make a return trip to Earth with a scout like yours? How many times can you get past Starfleet?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Why was there a delay?"

"We thought there was problem."

"Was there?"

"No."

"Then why the delay?"

"Look!" The pilot slammed his fist into the table and the shot of amber liquid on the desk rattled and spilled over. "It's fine. Just trust me." He picked up the glass and tried not to think about the drowned and preserved fruit flies floating in the bottom. He downed it in a gulp.

"How long will you stay here?"

"Long enough to make sure the Enterprise gets here and to make sure that your potential mugu gets to you. Then I'll head back to Earth."

"Whom will he be meeting here?" the alien grinned with white teeth and clacked his nails on the table.

The pilot tossed a disk onto the table. "There's all the communications. And the address of the girl you'll need to contact. I'll keep being your ghost writer, because she can't read."

"I don't think that will be necesssssary," the white teeth gleamed in the lamplight and the clacking stopped.

The pilot stood quickly but it was too late. The cold metal of a phaser pressed into his temple. He turned and saw two Romulan guards on either side of him. "What the," he protested as hands wrapped around his arms and shoulders.

A third Romulan appeared from the shadows and sat down beside the scaly alien. "I'm sorry," the Romulan in a Commander's uniform said. "But you have engaged the Enterprise. I can only hope that you have not attracted attention as you did so. That ship is too much of a prize to leave in the hands of such amateurs."

The Romulan Commander gave a brief nod to his officer with the phaser, and with a high whine and a dull thud, the pilot collapsed to the floor.

The scaled alien giggled and slid the disk to the Romulan Commander. "I told you he was trusssting."

"We followed that scout for three parsecs, the exhaust he was leaving was hard to ignore. You should be more careful about your business associates."

"It was a short term transaction," the alien's face fell.

"Once I have the Enterprise on my scanners, and the officer in question following my orders, you will have your cloaking devices." The Commander stood and his two officers stood to attention. "In the meantime, keep your head down. We don't know whose eyes have been drawn this way."

The alien nodded in deference, then stood and withered away through the darkened bar. The Romulans pulled heavy cloaks over their heads and uniforms, and walked stiffly out. The body of the dead pilot lay cooling under the table.

"Come in," McCoy pulled his uniform jacket tightly and turned to the door.

Kirk stepped in. "Well, I'm ready if you are."

"What do you have on the menu for tonight?" McCoy asked.

Kirk smiled with a knowing grin. "Something that is sure to be big hit. Let's go pick up Spock."

Carter buzzed Fisher's quarters and the door slid open. Fisher was smoothing out the jacket of his black formal uniform, and tapped the insignia to straighten it. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Just be glad I'm not breaking out the white gloves."

"I think we're going to be overdressed."

"Let's just go." Carter blew off his comment and they left for their initiation to the Enterprise.

Together they strode down the hallways, up the turbo lift, and to the formal meeting room that had been converted to a formal dining hall.

Kirk smiled as he saw the two officers in their formalwear; sharp blacks punctuated by rank and insignia pins. Both of them carried a medal or three.

The table was set with the formal china, and Carter couldn't help but wonder at what mysterious dishes of the galaxy Kirk was going to throw at them tonight.

"Lieutenant Commander Carter, Lieutenant Fisher," Kirk stepped forward to greet them. "I'm so very glad that the two of you had the evening free. Now we can get to know you."

"Thank you, Captain," Fisher nodded. "It is a pleasure to get to know you, as well. Our meeting before was too brief and too business for my taste."

I believe you've met Mister Spock," he gestured to the Vulcan, who nodded cordially.

"Briefly, but yes," Carter returned the nod, knowing the Vulcan's distaste for touch.

"And of course you know Doctor McCoy. This is my helmsman, Lieutenant Commander Sulu, my engineer Commander Scott, and my Communications Officer, Lieutenant Commander Uhura." Kirk went down the line of officers who could be present for the dinner, and Carter and Fisher shook hands with each of them in turn.

They took their places around the table, sitting where the place cards told them to, and everyone sat down after Kirk had sat. Within moments, waiters whisked out of the galley and set down salad plates and began pouring a white wine. The salad was seaweed, with a sharp briny dressing. Carter began to have strong suspicions about the main course. She picked at her salad. She had more important things to do than sit here and make small talk.

Kirk spoke up. "I'm sorry that my Navigator, Mister Chekov could not join us. He had some urgent business to attend to this evening."

"I'm sure we will meet him soon enough," Fisher said, carefully eating the salad, taking care not to splash dressing on his uniform.

The atmosphere around the table was quiet, and mildly uncomfortable. Carter ignored it, attributing it to the fact that if it weren't for their mission, the Enterprise would surely be off doing "important" things.

"So tell me, Lieutenant," Kirk looked up at Carter. "How is it that you know Doctor McCoy so well?"

This garnered a harsh look from McCoy. Fisher coughed suddenly.

The salads were finished, and soon the waiters began whisking them away.

"With all due respect, sir, I prefer to keep some information confidential," Carter said without pause, looking agitatedly for the waiters to return.

"Ah," Kirk nodded. "Well I can certainly understand. How is it that you came to be in intelligence? Can I ask you that?"

McCoy took a big gulp of his wine.

"Of course," Carter smiled too-warmly. "I had been schooled as a diplomatic attache, but was approached by the OSFI to become an agent."

"Is that because you speak many languages, lass?" Scott asked, genuinely interested in the career path of a spy.

"Well," Carter considered. "Jonathan speaks more fluently than I, but I can bumble my way through Orion and Klingon."

"Addy's specialty is diffusing hostile personalities," Fisher said quickly, catching Kirk's quizzical glance.

"Then what's your specialty, Mister Fisher?" asked Scott.

"I diffuse Addy," he winked, and finished his first glass of wine.

The dinner plates arrived, and Fisher choked on his glass of wine when he saw the unmistakable bright colors and patterns of sashimi. He glanced at Carter who was grinning from ear to ear and breaking apart a fresh pair of chopsticks.

Scott looked at the plate set before him, looked at the chopsticks, and then reached for the nearby fork. He mumbled something under his breath that no one could quite understand.

Spock looked at the rolls of rice and vegetables that had been specially prepared for his vegetarian sensibilities. Uhura pointed. "Do you think that I can be a vegetarian for tonight?" she said quietly and grinned.

Spock merely raised a brow and exacted a careful grip on the chopsticks.

"Is there any wasabi?" she glanced at Sulu. Sulu reached up and handed her a small plate of bright green paste. He then turned to his own colorful plate with a gulp.

"Ad," Fisher dropped his napkin and leaned down to pick it up.

"It's okay, Jon," she spoke quietly and sensibly. "Actually, Mister Scott, Jonathan has been providing some excellent cover stories for the team."

"This is an nteresting choice, Captain," Fisher sat up and resettled the napkin in his lap.

"Ginger?" Carter cocked her head and poured a capful of soy sauce. A small dish of pinkish slices was passed to her.

"I didn't know that this was a part of the replicator's," Fisher paused, poking at the slices nervously and hunting for the right word. "Repertoire," he finished with a forced smile. He passed the pale pink slices of ginger across to his overeager partner who was already setting up a slice of fish with pale green wasabi.

"The replicator can produce many things, but we had this prepared by our chef," Kirk poured from a small china decanter that a waiter had set before him, and sipped at the hot sake.

"I was not aware that the Enterprise kept a chef on regular staff," Carter stopped midway to taking a bite, balancing the slice of fish and ginger on her poised chopsticks. "I was under the impression that a staff chef was reserved for diplomatic missions."

McCoy looked at his plate and scowled at Kirk. Kirk glanced back with a look of cunning and finished his sake. "We arranged for a chef for this mission, seeing as how there's not going to be much going on."

Carter smiled at the opening shot and put the first bite of sashimi into her mouth. Fisher coughed slightly and pulled apart his chopsticks. As he glanced at his napkin, he saw that Carter was holding open her OSFI communicator in her hidden left hand, and the words "SALMON" and "NAMA SHAKE" flashed alternately on the screen.

"Well, I have to say it's been a long time since I've had good nama," he smiled, grabbing a slice of fish with an awkward grasp and began shaking it.

Carter put her hand to her mouth to hide her laughing grin. She set down her chopsticks and put her hand on Fisher's awkward grasp on the chopsticks to stop him from shaking the bruised fish any further. "Tell your chef that I'm very impressed with his selection of salmon. I think the only time I've had it better was in Japan."

"I don't think I went with you on that one, Ad," Fisher was doing his best not to laugh as well.

"You sure didn't," she went back to her careful mixture of soy sauce, ginger slices and wasabi.

"How long have you two been partners?" Uhura asked.

"Since we graduated," Carter replied.

"We're like penguins in that place," Fisher grinned. "We mate for life. Right, Ad?"

"But I thought you said that you weren't," McCoy began uncomfortably. "Together" was the unspoken word.

"Oh, lord no," Fisher scoffed. "Of course not. That would be just silly."

"And against the rules," Carter added.

"Can I ask your opinion about this mission? Off the record," Kirk asked bravely.

Carter looked up with an eye. "Not without compromising details."

"We had requested more time, I'll tell you that." Fisher's smile never seemed to dim. "But we can make do. Can't we, Ad?"

"Sure," she nodded, and matched his smile.

The Enterprise crew, long accustomed to strange dishes, managed to get down the raw fish, but not with the enthusiasm of Carter. McCoy and Fisher were the only two who didn't finish their plates of sashimi, and when they were taken away the only person who didn't breathe a sigh of relief was Carter. She set down her chopsticks and put her napkin on the table.

"I have to admit that this was the best dinner onboard a starship I've ever had. I appreciate your hospitality, Captain," Carter said cordially. "Is there something in my file about sushi being one of my favorite foods?"

"No," Kirk seemed disappointed.

She looked across the table at him and smiled an equally cunning smile, much like Brer Rabbit must have smiled at the Mr. Fox.

McCoy leaned against the wall. "Raw fish, Jim? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't know," Kirk sat in his chair. "I didn't think it would go over as well as it did."

"Are you planning on making them all sick and then you'll have to take them home?"

"Bones, it's hard to get sick off of sashimi."

"You say that now, but don't you come crying to me when you get a bad case of worms. I'm going to go give myself a vaccination," McCoy turned to storm out.

"A vaccination against what?" Kirk called after him.

"Against your stubborn head!" McCoy answered and the door slid shut after him.

"Ad, I'm sorry," Fisher held up his hands. "I haven't had that stuff since training."

"Yeah, well, thank your lucky stars that they didn't trot out big plates of yellowtail, because then I'd be gagging." Carter settled behind her desk and put her feet up.

"What's the difference between fish?" Fisher sat down on the bed.

Carter shook her head. "I don't know why, but yellowtail has a really bad texture. I can't stand it."

The comm whistled. "Brown to Carter."

"Carter here."

"If you're free, we have something that you might be interested in seeing."

"Sure, go ahead."

"I think you need to see this."

Carter and Fisher both raised a brow to the remark and stood up quickly. "We're on our way."

Once at their new office, Brown pointed out a dotted line across a star map indicating a line of travel from the Terran System to the Arcturan System. "Somebody was in a hurry to beat us out here, and he didn't let anything stop him. Not even a bum engine. Judging from the exhaust that our intelligence drones picked up, the ship he was in was barely able to go a parsec, much less go all the way to Arcturus."

"These readings couldn't have been put out of an interstellar scout," Fisher mulled aloud. "Maybe he was going to have it repaired there,"

"But even then, he wouldn't be able to get an inspection or change his classification on Arcturus. He can only do that on Terra." Carter sat down. "I wonder if this has anything to do with that scout that fired on me a few nights before we departed."

"There was one arrest from that night, and as far as I know they still have that guy in custody. The Arcturan they kept, but the human who called himself the pilot of the scout they let go," Fisher said.

"I'd like to get the transcripts of the interrogations that were done on these fellows. Get it by morning and we'll review it then. I'm going to my quarters to get a drink." Carter unbuttoned her formal jacket and stepped to the door. "We're meeting in the Rec Deck in thrity, right?" she pointed to Fisher.

"Is that an order?" he asked.

She shook her head and stepped out.

Kirk did like to take some time to mingle with his crew, and there were a few crewmen on the Rec Deck. They were playing a few quiet rounds of three dimensional chess, and Kirk gave pause to offer a few pointers before moving on to the quiet picture window towards the aft of the ship.

As he stared out the window, he watched the stars go by and thought about the injustice of this mission. True, he did appreciate the occasional "gravy job," but after a series of routine repairs and maintenance, he did want something that would push the ship to some limits. Even if Scotty didn't approve.

He sighed, tapped the window with his fist in some degree of frustration, and turned to leave. He stopped when he caught a flash of movement from a lonely corner of the deck.

"Excellent," he heard Carter say, and he stepped into the frame of the door to watch where he presumably couldn't be seen.

Fisher, with a large bow of some Orion design, stepped to a makeshift target and pulled an arrow from its center. "That's five, Ad," he waved the arrow, and stepped back to the table.

"Five it is," she nodded, and poured a shot of whiskey from the bottle on the table. She drank it quickly, paused a moment, and then turned the glass upside down on the table, puddled with more whiskey. She picked up her bow, similar to Fisher's and swayed for a moment longer.

Fisher handed her the arrow, and she stepped up to a crudely drawn line on the deck, a full thirty feet from the target. She knocked the arrow and began to draw back.

"Ad," Fisher said suddenly.

Carter took aim. "Yeah."

"Do you think we're being margarinized?" he slurred.

"If you mean 'marginalized', yes. I do think we're being marginalized." She again refocused her attention on the target before her.

"Ad," Fisher asked again.

"What?" Carter asked, irritated.

Fisher waved a drunken hand in her direction. "I'm just trying to annoy you," he grinned.

"Stop it. You're not that drunk." She aimed quickly and released, sending the arrow slamming to its target. "But you will be quick enough," she turned to him and smiled. "Six." She pointed to the small table, and Fisher threw up his hands and poured another shot.

Kirk watched, silently laughing at the two of them.

Carter repeated the process, removing the arrow from the target and brought it back to Fisher. Kirk could only imagine that the game would go on until one of them could no longer shoot straight. Fisher aimed, fired, and made the target perfectly without a word from Carter. Perhaps she didn't feel the need to annoy him.

Kirk glanced at the chronometer, and wondered how long the game would go on, how long he should watch, and how interesting it might get. He grinned, crossed his arms and waited.

Carter paused a moment before pouring her shot. She got a sly smile and held up the half empty bottle. "Hey, Jon, I'll bet you fifty credits I can do a double and still make the shot."

Fisher handed her the arrow and shrugged. "Might as well get out my wallet now."

She poured one shot, paused and drank it. Pouring another, she got the feeling that perhaps this wasn't the best idea in the world. She looked at it for a second, and drank it quickly to avoid any further hesitation.

Fisher sat on the edge of a stack of gym mats and waited, leaning haphazardly on his bow.

Carter stood straight and sighed, watching the target move in and out of focus and across her field of vision before resting again thirty feet before her. Content that the target was no longer moving around, she knocked the arrow and drew it back. The dark tip of the arrow came sharply into view, and she thought about the furred tip vaguely for a moment. She then returned her sights to the target, feeling the room shift beneath her as though she were in the midst of a slow earthquake.

_I really have to pee_, she thought, and let out a small laugh at it all. She had no idea where the closest lavatory was, and there was surely some kind of hell to catch regarding drunken archery games on the Enterprise Rec Deck.

Kirk leaned forward, watching her carefully. She was taking too long, he thought.

From the rushing sounds in her ears, Carter caught the sound of a footfall trying not to be heard, and a breath being drawn not far from her. The liquor in her laughed and rolled over in her stomach, giving her an intense feeling of nausea. The trained spy in her seized the opportunity and took over.

In a single movement she dropped to one knee, aimed and fired at the source of the sound.

"Sweet Jesus," McCoy gasped and slowly raised his head. The arrow had buried itself deep in the bulkhead where he had been standing. "What in god's name are you doing?"

"Holy shit, Addy!" Fisher struggled to contain his laughter, and Carter stood wide eyed at the near miss accident.

"Len! What were you," she began, but Kirk's shout interrupted her.

"Bones! Are you all right?" he jogged to McCoy's side.

"I'm fine, Jim," McCoy said quickly, glaring at Carter.

Kirk grabbed the black arrow, jerked it out from the metal, and examined the deep hole it had made.

Carter was admitting to herself that this had been a terrible mistake, and that this exercise was best done on the safe ranges of the OSFI where such things were not only tolerated but encouraged. "Sir," she did her best to speak clearly and tried to collect some semblance of rational thought. "I can explain," was the best she could come up with.

Fisher had staggered up to Kirk and clapped him on the shoulder. "I've got an idea," he grinned.

Kirk glared at him, and McCoy was looking rather wantingly at the whiskey on the table after his close call.

"You play," Fisher pressed the arrow to his chest. "If you beat us, we take the job of your choice for a shift. If one of us beats you, then you call this even."

Kirk looked at Carter, swaying on her feet and looked back at Fisher. "You realize that you two are pretty far along."

Fisher threw out his hands. "Then, what do you have to lose?" He offered the Captain his bow and stepped back.

McCoy, seeing his chance, stepped to the whiskey bottle and gratefully poured himself a shot. "I think it's a fair deal, Jim, considering."

Kirk considered for a moment. "All right," he nodded. "But I think to be fair," he paused at the table and poured himself a shot. "I think I had better catch up with you two." He drank it down and laughed at the idea of a man his age playing drinking games.

He stepped to the line, and then took a step back. Carter smiled in spite of herself. Kirk took a careful aim, and a sudden wave of wooziness hit him. He began to understand why this particular drinking game was so fun.

He drew back and fired a perfect shot to the center of the target, and turned as Carter and Fisher toasted their two glasses to him. "Salud!" Fisher said quickly before drinking.

McCoy grabbed a glass and had a shot himself, smirking at the game. "I dunno, Jim. They might beat you even if they are halfway gone."

Fisher chuckled dramatically, and quickly fired off a perfect shot. "It's the half that's still here, that's the good half," he went back to his mat pile and leaned awkwardly.

Kirk poured for Carter and himself and paused to touch her glass with his. "Salud?" he offered.

"Salud," she nodded, and drank quickly.

She took the arrow, returned to the line, and fired off another bullseye.

"Is this ever gonna get interesting?" crowed McCoy, who had easily drank four shots in the time it had taken them to start the game.

"I think that's going to be up to the spies," Kirk took aim and fired off another perfect shot. "What kind of bow is this?" he asked Fisher, handing it back to him.

"Orion," Fisher replied. "Spend enough time on the narco trafficking routes, and you make some friends. Isn't that right, Addy?" he called over to Carter, who was strangely quiet.

Fisher took his bow, retrieved the arrow, and poised himself to fire. He laughed and muttered to himself inaudibly and fired.

The arrow was a full six inches from center.

Fisher looked up, and Carter laughed out loud. "You brought this on yourself," she pointed accusingly.

"Hot damn, Jim! Looks like you've got some volunteers for galley runs tomorrow," laughed McCoy.

"That's if I'm feeling generous," Kirk cocked his head and smirked. "I think I'll celebrate." He poured himself another shot.

"Captain! I have had a thought!" Fisher shouted, staggering a little.

Kirk looked over suspiciously. "No, I think you're looking for a way to weasel out of this."

"Weasel? No. Out of the bet? Yes!" He stepped to the table and refilled Kirk's glass. "All right, you made that last shot, and I missed this one," he draped his arm over Kirk and pointed to Carter. "But if you give her one shot," Fisher held up his index finger.

"Now, wait a minute," Kirk pushed his hand away.

"I'm not done, sir," Fisher shook his head melodramatically. He pointed to Carter. "Addy does a triple. If she makes the shot, then the hole in the wall is forgotten. If she doesn't," he paused. "We'll spit shine your hanger deck floor."

Carter's eyes widened and she felt sick at the very prospect drinking another drop. I'd rather polish the floor, she thought.

Kirk glanced over at her and grinned. "The two of you?"

Fisher nodded and crossed his arms. "The two of us. Carter and myself. On our hands and knees in your hangar deck."

Kirk reached over and filled Carter's shot glass. "One," he smiled cunningly.

Carter drank it fast, and waited as Kirk filled it a second time.

"Two," and he filled it a third time.

"Three," Carter cut him off, and tilted back the last shot with a fiery glance to Fisher.

He handed her the arrow as she passed by, and for a moment it looked as though she were going to hit him. Standing before the target, she gave a lengthy pause.

Carter felt as though she were drunk enough to laugh about the absurdity of it all and yet cry over lost loves, dead cats, or any other remotely tragic incident blown out of proportion to the amount of whiskey she'd been coerced to consume. Even if I make this shot, she thought, I don't know where my cabin is to collapse in.

Her throat burned, her eyes watered, her stomach roiled in protest, and yet she raised the bow to the target.

McCoy stared, his hand poised midway between the table and his mouth, an overflowing shot glass in his fingers.

Carter paused, breathed, closed her eyes and released. There was a brief whistling and a _thunk_ as the arrow hit a perfect bullseye. She looked up, and gave a small smile in gratitude. It was over. She turned, and caught herself with her foot before she fell to the floor. "If that is all, Captain, I think I'll be retiring to my quarters."

Kirk laughed and gave her three loud claps of applause. "Very impressive. But don't think I've forgotten about the hole you made in my bulkhead." He felt lightheaded, but he was sure that Carter was positively sick.

Fisher stood and performed an elaborate bow. "Thank you, sir. I believe that I, too, will be retiring for the evening." He looked towards the door, where Carter was leaning and holding her head in one hand. "However," he turned back to Kirk. "It appears we lack the directional ability to locate our respective quarters at this time, sir. Might you be gracious enough to show us the way, sir?"

Kirk laughed again, staring at Fisher incredulously. "You're telling me that the agents of Starfleet Intelligence can't find their way around a galaxy class starship?"

With a flourish, Fisher produced a small compass from his pocket and opened it. "Useless!" he cried. He snapped it shut again and shrugged dramatically. "I suppose I could wander the decks for a few hours," he snapped his fingers with a jazzy flourish and turned.

"All right, all right," Kirk moved to grab his arm. "Bones, you take Carter. I'll take this one."

McCoy stood, finished the last sip of whiskey from the bottle, and touched Carter's shoulder. "You all right?" he asked at her quiet figure.

She nodded, silent. McCoy thought that she might really be too sick from all the alcohol, and decided that it might be best to get her to bed as quickly as possible. "You know," he started in on a lecture.

"Don't start," she staggered briefly and caught herself again. "Just leave this. I'll send one of the trainees to get it in the morning," she waved at the glasses and bottles.

"Do they know that their commanding officers drink so hard?" McCoy lifted a brow.

"They ought to," she nodded knowingly, and made for a door. McCoy followed quickly, taking her bow.

They walked silent through the corridors and up the turbolift, McCoy growing more and more concerned about her.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again. He made a mental note to harass Kirk about getting an officer to drink so much.

Carter nodded, carefully avoiding his eyes.

Once in her quarters, Carter took the bow from him and set it on the desk amongst piles of papers and rolls of drawings. "Thank you, Len," she said quickly. She leaned against the desk and rubbed her eyes.

McCoy took her by the arms and studied her. "Addy," he began sternly, but when her eyes met his, he thought he understood her hesitation. He understood, because he felt the same way about her.

Taking a chance, he drew her in and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, practically going limp. But after a moment, she startled and withdrew. "Len," she pulled back. "I think you'd better go," she said gently, quietly.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I think you're right." He released her and stepped back. He turned quickly and stepped out into the hallway, and then cursed himself. The cursing continued as he entered the turbolift and headed back to his quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning, Kirk stepped onto the bridge and surveyed the order and peace. Nodding appreciatively, he approached Spock. "Spock," he greeted the Vulcan with a grin. "Glad to see last night's dinner didn't disagree with you too badly."

Spock was too much involved with studying the charts before him to respond too deeply. "I am always intrigued by earth's many tastes and cultures."

"Hm," Kirk scoffed at him with a grin and stepped down to his command console. "Mister Chekov," he sat down. "Your absence was felt last night. I was sure that you'd tell us all about the Russian practice of eating raw fish."

Chekov smiled rather nervously and shifted in his seat.

"It was a real party," Sulu snarked, low enough that Kirk understood the comment wasn't for his ears.

"Perhaps another time," Chekov turned briefly and smiled as best he could.

He had spent the evening in his quarters reading and rereading the latest message from Ahlyia, the alien woman with whom he's struck up a rapport. He had told her of the intelligence officers onboard with him, on their way to her system, and she had pressed him rather uncomfortably for information. She had also told him not to tell the agents of their communications, and to keep their relationship a secret for as long as possible.

"I wait for you with eager arms," she had written, and had attached a rather enticing visual image of herself for his viewing. She had claimed to be an ex-prostitute, and from the photo Chekov could only imagine that she was a highly successful one. Her sleek black hair flowed to her waist, as she contorted herself into a pose of seduction for the camera.

But her endless litany of questions had given Chekov pause. How many agents? Who are they? What are their names? What is the rank? What is in the cargo bay? Can you make a secret copy of the manifest? How much will you be able to give us? Does your captain know about us?

He had become so frightened by the message, that he had not answered it. He had spent the evening in a sweat, debating whether or not to tell Kirk. Perhaps if he simply refused to answer her, she would go away. For now, that was his plan.

He looked at his console, hoping that the mere sight of it would shock him back into working and make him forget about the very attractive Ahlyia.

He glanced up again at Kirk, and the Captain was signing off on a requisition order, smiling to himself as he did so.

Kirk had reason to smile. The intelligence officers, for the most part, were keeping to themselves, and it appeared that the Enterprise crew had largely forgotten about their presence. With the one exception of the incident on the Rec Deck, they were keeping their private mayhem from interfering with the regular operations of the ship, and Kirk couldn't have been happier about it. He had received an evening and a morning report of their activities, expertly penned by the magnanimous Karen Battaglia, which he had glanced over. As far as he could tell, Carter was keeping her word that the intelligence activities would be kept out of his hair.

He gave a contented sigh.

From the engineering station, crewman Ross cocked his head. "Sir? I'm getting a proximity alarm, but I don't know where it's coming from."

"Spock? Are you reading it?" Kirk turned and felt reassured to see Spock pulling up Ross' screens. It wasn't that he didn't trust crewman Ross. It was that he had placed his life in Spock's hands more times than he could count.

"Affirmative. Reading a sizable chunk of space debris, 300 kilometers off the starboard bow."

"Mister Chekov, perhaps you would care for a little target practice?" Kirk gestured with a chivalrous grace.

Chekov grinned, his immediate problem with espionage forgotten. "Aye, sir. Locking phasers."

Without warning, what had been thought to be space debris lit up and scurried across the main viewer like a cockroach. Chekov quickly released the phaser control in order to avoid a friendly fire accident. Spock fell into his scanner, swearing that the vessel had registered as a piece of dead space debris on his scanner not but a moment ago.

"Spock, what the hell is happening?" Kirk demanded.

"Unknown, scanning now."

"Is it possible that they were playing possum, Spock?" Kirk asked quickly.

"I am unfamiliar with that terminology captain," Spock turned. "But if I read you correctly, I do believe that they had shut off all their power to lay in wait for us."

"Sulu, full stop. Uhura, open a channel. I'd like to know who these guys think they are."

The Enterprise pulled to a slow halt, and the little vessel with a registry of "Argo" pulled into view. It fishtailed with broken thrusters as it faced down the ship that was easily ten times its size.

"This is the USS Enterprise, please identify yourself," Uhura said as cordially as she could. "Please respond. This is the USS Enterprise, please identify yourself."

Silence.

A signal flashed on Uhura's comm panel, and an overhead screen began scrolling with lines, dozens of lines, hundreds of lines, text and numbers in various languages. Uhura blinked and began pressing buttons, calling up all codebreaking programs that her computer knew. "Captain, I think this is our answer," she called out.

"What the," Kirk said in a low tone as the text continued, scrolling and filling one line and rapidly creating another and another in succession. "This doesn't look like any code that we've ever seen, or used."

"It doesn't match anything in our databanks," Spock nodded. "Captain," he turned. "Might I suggest that we use the recent tools placed at our disposal?"

Kirk nodded. "Get Carter up here," he orderd Uhura, who was calling on a shipwide intercom before the words left him.

Carter opened one eye at the sound of the shrill voice calling her name. For a moment she thought that she was dreaming that her mother was calling her, they were late for church. Then she remembered that she hadn't been to church on Sunday in well over twenty years. She started to sit up, but found herself dangerously close to the edge of the bed and fell off, striking her forehead on the cold metal wall beside the bed.

Holding the sore spot, she struck the comm with her fist. "Carter here. What's going on?"

"Captain Kirk requests your presence on the bridge immediately. Please respond." Uhura sounded concerned.

"I'm on my way," she stood and grabbed a black satin wrap and hurredly draped it over her pajamas as she strode out towards the lift.

There were a few glances as the door opened and she appeared, half dressed and rather disheveled. She didn't notice, and immediately stepped to Kirk's station. She studied the main viewer, and she recognized the ship. "That's the Argo," she said quietly. "But she's way out. Wonder what she's doing up here?"

"Trying to talk to us," Kirk stood and pointed to Uhura's station, where the visible code poured over the screens

Carter looked at it and puzzled for a moment. "I take it that you've got the standard programs working on this?"

"Affirmative." Spock nodded.

"That's good, because I haven't seen this before." Carter startled as an alarm began to sound.

The bridge crew went into a flurry of activity as the klaxons sounded a red alert. Kirk jumped to his station, as Sulu glanced at the warning lights on his console. "Sir, they're locking weapons."

"Do they have anything that can hurt us?"

"Negative," Spock said, his face buried in the blue glow of his scanners. "Light phaser array only."

"Shields up anyway. Uhura, are they responding to any of our hails?"

"No, sir," she shook her head.

Carter hit the open intercom button. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

There was a pause, and then a voice came over the speakers. "Identify yourself, human!"

"This is Lieutenant Commander Carter, of the Office of Starfleet Intelligence." She waited as there a silence over the bridge and the red lights flashed in mute.

Suddenly the viewscreen flickered and a Rigillian face came into view, a smoky and chaotic bridge in the background. "Carter? Have not seen you for long time? How is things?"

"Things is fine. What the hell do you think you're doing, threatening a Starfleet vessel?"

The Rigillian cleared his throat politely and gave a small laugh. "Carter, things is things in this quadrant. You understand."

"Things or people? Did someone put you up to this? What the hell is this chickenscratch?" she gestured to the screens, lined and scrolling with code.

He shrugged. "Maybe we talk. You make worthwhile? Or you go bedtime?" he grinned, mocking her attire.

She crossed her arms and stepped down. "No, Reghio. You got me out of bed. I can talk. There or here?"

He thought a moment. "Here is best."

"Of course it is," she nodded. "Do you need a few moments? Or can I beam over now?"

"Moments, yes. Many moments to prepare," he nodded and grinned.

"There's sixty moments in my minute. You have three hundred moments. Carter out," she touched the panel again to close the channel.

"What's happening?" Kirk demanded.

"I don't know, sir," Carter shook her head and touched a different button. "Hey, Jon, you down there? We just ran into the Argo."

"Argo? You're kidding." Fisher's voice came up, and he sounded shocked.

"Yeah, and he's up to something. I'm sending some code to Batty. Make sure she gets it. I'm going to need a wire and a tracer, five minutes." Carter released the channel and turned to Kirk. "I don't know what's going on, but I'll find out for you."

"You're going over there?" Kirk motioned to the Argo, still drifting on the screen.

"That's the idea." She nodded and turned to the turbolift. "I'll be wearing a tracking device. Fisher can give Mister Spock the details and you can keep an eye on me, too, if you want." The doors slid shut without another word.

Kirk blinked and Spock lifted a brow. Uhura glanced up at the new code, and the computer floundered in its attempt to break it.

"Sickbay to bridge, what in God's name is going on up there?" McCoy's raspy irritated tone came over the loudspeaker.

"Bones, everything's fine," Kirk stepped down to his command chair, but stood anxiously. "You can stand down that red alert."

Carter flew barefoot down the deck to their office, where Batty and Price were waiting with her suede jacket and hat. She quickly and immodestly changed from her pajamas and wrap into a pair of jeans, button down shirt, and a tan jacket. "Batty, did you get that new code from the bridge?"

"Aye, sir, and it matches recent samples picked up by the intelligence drones from here to Romulus," Karen said starkly.

"Romulus?" Fisher said, pinning a tiny mike into the collar of Carter's shirt. "I think I read a report about the Romulans getting interested in Orion pirates, but the Argo doesn't have any proven ties to piracy."

"They may have just blown that cover, then. This may be what we need to arrest someone," Carter said quickly, tipping her hat. "And if we arrest someone, we can hold them for questioning."

Price handed her a short knife, which she slipped into a hidden sheath on her back under her shirt. "The Argo was last seen near Arcturus about three months ago, and she was impounded six months ago for failure to adhere to safety standards and for non-registry of hazardous cargo."

"What the hell were they carrying that they needed to be impounded for it?" Fisher raised his brows.

"Live vaccine," Price's reply was like a brick. The Constellation had been carrying quite a large quantity of vaccine at the same time.

"Vaccine? Where did they get vaccine?" Fisher asked quickly.

"I don't have anymore time," Carter glanced at the chronometer. "Batty, call up Transporter Room 3 and let them know I'm on my way. I'll see what I can find out there. Jon, head on up to the bridge and give all my transponder and comm info to Spock and Uhura. I don't want to make Kirk edgier than he already is."

"Aye, sir," Fisher turned and Carter moved with him to leave.

"Be careful, Addy," Karen called after them.

Kirk met Carter in the Transporter Room. "Captain," Carter said brusquely. "Fisher is giving the transponder information to your bridge crew."

"I'm aware of that. How long do you think this will take?"

"Hour. Maybe less," she stepped up onto the pad. "Tell me, you don't happen to have any live vaccine in that cargo bay, do you?"

"A cubic meter of it. Why?" Kirk cocked his head.

"Just curious." She nodded to the transporter operator. "Please go ahead."

In a shimmer, she was gone.

Kirk pressed a comm button, "Spock, do you have her?"

There was a pause. "Affirmative, Captain. She is aboard the Argo."

"I'm on my way back up, Kirk out." He closed the channel and turned for the bridge.

Smoke greeted Carter as she materialized aboard the rogue freighter, and she did her best not to cough. Her bruised forehead gave a little throb and she realized that she'd taken off without even having a cup of coffee. The Jack Daniel's she'd been drinking the previous night was still on her breath.

"Carter? You are early, yes?" Captain Reghio greeted her with a bow, but kept an eye on her movements all the same.

"I'm on time," she said, stepping down carefully. She glanced around at the stray boxes, empty crates and shattered cargo units. "What a mess, when was the last time you cleaned this place?"

"I no guests for long time," Reghio stepped back and allowed her to pass. "Can I serve you a drink?"

"You may," Carter nodded with a friendly smile.

Reghio snapped his fingers and from the corners of the room two shadows scurried off.

Carter looked around for more shadows lurking in the corners, but seeing none she turned back to Reghio. "You're a long way from home," she smiled.

"I could say same of you."

"Are we going to talk in the bay, here? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?" Carter asked quickly.

Spock scanned the immediate area as Carter's and Reghio's voices spoke over the loudspeaker. "No vessels in the immediate vicinity. No activity," he looked up from his scanning station.

"Patching in to loudspeaker," Uhura pressed a button and there were sounds of footsteps and clinking glasses overhead.

"Reggie," Carter spoke low. "I heard about your little impoundment a few months back. Do you want to tell me about it?"

McCoy, who could never stay away from the bridge at these moments, looked at the speaker as though she were there, and listened hard for the answer. Fisher stood beside him, glancing every now and again at the Communications channel.

"Bad deal," Reghio answered. "No deal. My supplier no say about live vaccine."

"That's odd, because most live vaccines have hazmat all over the manifest in big print and in about three dozen languages. Are you telling me that you missed this? Or that the cargo came to you without a manifest?"

"Manifest, gone."

"Captain, I am reading an unknown energy source on the Argo. Powered down, but residual waves are readable," Spock commented.

Kirk registered this. "Keep an eye on it Spock. Notify me if anything changes."

"Reggie, taking cargo without a manifest is more illegal than carrying live vaccine. You know that. Why did you do it?" One could almost hear Carter leaning back in her chair and speaking as though they were discussing crops and weather.

There was a pause, and Uhura turned up the gain on the channel.

"Where did the cargo come from Reggie?" Carter asked directly. There was a sound of a glass hitting the table.

"Come on, come on," Fisher tapped the communications console impatiently. "Just spit it out."

There was a sound like a whine from the speaker and a shuffle. "He was just a man, that all I tell you."

A pause ensued, and a creak from a chair. "Reggie, would you mind too terribly if I looked around?"

"No reason too," Reghio sounded nervous. He knew Carter could not search his vessel unless she had reasonable cause, and right now all she had was a lingering suspicion that he was up to no good.

"Then can I see your manifests?"

"Yes, yes, manifests, all manifests here," there was a shuffling of papers and the dull thud of the ship's logbook onto the table.

"You were in the Arcturan Sector not but three days ago. As far as I knew you weren't licensed to transport from that sector."

"New license."

"Can I see it?"

There was another shifting, rattling and shuffling, and a pause.

"Reggie, I don't know who you bought this from, but they are a poor forger."

Fisher grinned widely. "Got 'em."

McCoy glanced at him strangely.

"Nooo, Carter," he seemed to blow her off. "I get from Federation. Federation Issue."

"See this? This is the stamp color of two years ago. The logo is accurate for this year. The color isn't."

There was a pause, and then a sharp scuffle, the sounds of a brief altercation and breaking glass.

"Reggie, I'm on your side, remember?" Carter sounded breathless when she finally spoke again. "Just let me look at your cargo, tell me who sold you the license, and we can play like it was all an innocent mistake. Okay?"

"No, he kill me!" Reghio squealed.

"Would you like for me to take you into custody? I can protect you there. Then you can tell me."

Fisher laughed and shook his head.

McCoy cocked his head. "Who is doing who the favor?"

"He is," Fisher spoke up. "He's doing all the favors. But he doesn't know it. Captain, I'd get the brig ready for guests if I were you."

Kirk paused, and grimaced. "Spock, anything in the area?"

Spock had his face back in the scanner. "Some energy fluctations, 5000 kilometers off the port side. Unknown origin."

"Let me take a look," Fisher stepped to the scanner.

Kirk looked to Sulu. "Keep an eye on him, tell me if he comes any closer to us."

"Aye, sir," Sulu hit a button and listened to the altercation happening on the other ship.

A voice piped up from Uhura's console. "Peters to Fisher, I've got some energy fluctuations on my scanner. Are you getting them up there?"

Fisher acknowledged the channel. "Mister Spock beat you to it." He then opened up a small communicator and spoke in a low voice. "Belle Boyd, Belle Boyd, this is General Lee. You may have some Yankees nearby, so wrap it up."

"Okay, then I'm taking you in anyway, Reggie. If you're fearing for your life, then it's the only way I can protect you. I can arrange for a Starfleet Vessel to pick up your craft and the crew here, and take it to the nearest space station," Carter spoke quickly. "I'll even waive the docking and storage fees, okay? Does that sound all right?"

Reghio whimpered as a response, and there was a sound of footsteps. "Okay, Enterprise, you can bring us back." Carter ordered quickly. "I'll be on my way to Sickbay as soon as I hit that pad," she added.

Kirk nodded to McCoy. "You should meet her there."

McCoy turned on his heel without a word and left the bridge.

The two trainees waited in Transporter Room 3 as ordered by Ensign Price. Carter and the subdued Rigillian captain shimmered into view, the Rigillian bound with a low security restraining device around his wrists.

Carter stepped down from the pad, her arm held tightly to her side and a damp stain darkening her jacket. She passed the Rigillian's arm to a trainee and stepped quickly to the door. "Take him to the brig, make him comfortable."

"Are you okay?"

"No, not really," she stepped heavily towards the door. As she stepped out, she ran headlong into Scotty. The surprise and the pain in her arm nearly did her in, but she somehow managed to keep her footing. "Mister Scott," she breathed in shock.

"Och, lass, looks like you took quite a bruising," he glanced at the jacket and the growing stain.

"Which way to Sickbay?" she asked with a tired look. She hated starships with a passion, and despised her inability to keep her bearings in one.

Scott took her good arm and gently turned her to the right, "It's this way, I'll take you there."

Together they walked as quickly as Carter could manage. She knew that she'd taken a bigger hit than she originally thought, and she forced herself to keep pace.

Scott turned her to the right again, and the door slid open. McCoy waited inside, and had been pacing nervously. "It's about time," he started in on her.

She ignored him and sat down in the nearest chair, still holding her arm protectively. "Can you just please," she said quickly, begging him to stop bothering her about her own carelessness.

McCoy kneeled in front of her, setting out a few instruments on the desk next to her. With a gentle and firm hand he pushed her back into the chair, and pulled out the injured forearm.

Shards of broken glass sparkled in the bright light, and Carter did her best to relax as McCoy began cutting away the shredded leather jacket. "Looks like your jacket took the most of it," McCoy commented. "But there's still some bleeding coming from somewhere."

Carter jumped a little as he ripped off the fabric, and turned to Scotty. "The Argo is still out there, she's got three crewmen onboard. We're arranging for a transport, can you disable their warp and impulse drives so they don't go anywhere?"

"And can you get lost, so I can fix this mess?" McCoy added hotly.

Scott gave a wry smile and a nod in deference. "We'll take care of the Argo, no need to worry 'bout that." He stepped out lightly, leaving McCoy and Carter alone.

McCoy worked quickly, picking out bits of glass and dropping them into a metal bowl. Carter sighed and watched him work, thinking that this had been a terrible morning.

"Listen," he said quietly. "I'm sorry about last night." A shard of glass clinked in the bowl.

She didn't say anything, worsening McCoy's fears that he had permanently altered his friendship with her. "If it's all right, though," he started again cautiously. "I'd still like to see you from time to time."

She heard him, but between Reggie, the intense pain in her arm and the subtle effects of whatever painkiller he was using, she only vaguely understood his meaning.

He ran a scanner over her forearm, looking for any missed glass. He knew that there was something in there that was causing all the bleeding, and it hadn't been any of the little bits that he had pulled out so far. The scanner beeped impatiently, and he found his cause; a long shard of glass had nicked the artery and was still lodged between the two bones. He took his hypospray and numbed the area a little deeper to dig it out. "This may sting a little," he acknowledged, and looked up at her.

Carter watched as he proceeded to literally dig into her forearm and felt a familiar warmth envelop her belly and a rushing sound in her ears. "I'm going to pass out," she warned with a forced calm.

"Just relax," he touched her shoulder and gently leaned her back in the chair again. "This won't take but a minute."

She closed her eyes and waited for more prodding. There was none. She glanced up and saw McCoy quickly and subtly drop the largest shard soundlessly into the bowl with the rest. "That's it," he said, reading the scanner again. "That wasn't so bad was it?" he grinned up at her. "You still going to pass out on me?"

"I hope not," she tried to laugh at herself for her own sensitivities. "You're good, though."

"That's what they tell me," he began to suture the series of nicks and cuts, and looked up while the little machine hummed and worked. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

"What question?" her head swam with the lingering drugs and the feeling of losing consciousness.

"I know I took a liberty I shouldn't have," he admitted gracefully. "But will you come down to say hello? I get lonely down here, and I thought I had a new drinking partner."

She smiled, enjoying the warmth of his hand and his company. "Len, do you want to truth?"

He straightened a little and smiled a little more mischeviously. "Of course I'd like the truth."

She glanced at the floor and felt herself blush stupidly. "The truth," she looked straight into his waiting eyes and steeled herself for the admission. "The truth is that I find you strangely attractive and very charming, but I didn't think that my quarters last night was an appropriate time or place for either of us."

McCoy took her good hand and held it. "Now, what would say if I told you that I felt the same way about you?"

"The first thing I'd say is that this really isn't an appropriate setting for this, either" she said quickly, feeling her head fall back into some sense. "And I'd say that it really wouldn't work."

"Why on earth not?" he pressed her further. His truth was that he found her incredibly attractive and had been looking for any excuse to spend time with her while she was on the Enterprise.

"Because I'm leaving this ship as soon as my mission is over, and you're obviously not transferring off the Enterprise anytime soon. It just doesn't make sense." She looked at her forearm as the little suturing device chirruped the completion of its task. McCoy took it off and she rubbed the now smooth skin. "Besides," she took off what was left of her jacket and bundled it. "All my relationships drive me crazy after awhile."

She tried to stand, but immediately felt woozy again and fell back down. "Goddammit," she cursed. She really wanted nothing more than to leave after admitting her curious affection for the doctor.

"You're not going anywhere for awhile," McCoy said, and began stroking his chin thoughtfully. He had her prisoner for at least an hour, longer if he could call it medically necessary, and he intended to use that priviledge. "Now, let's think about this."

She glared at him, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You say that you're leaving soon and I'm staying here, so there's no point in getting involved, right?"

"Yes."

"But you also say that all your relationships drove you crazy, 'after awhile'?"

"Right,"

"So, it sounds perfect to me," he shrugged.

"Len," she rolled her eyes and groaned. "You're not a short term person. I can tell."

"I've never tried it. Maybe that's my problem," he grinned mischievously. "Seriously, though," he took both of her hands and held them. "I'm willing to try if you are. We can talk about it in the arboretum tonight, if you want to."

She thought for a moment, really enjoying having some hands to hold. "All right, but no promises."

The door opened suddenly, scaring the both of them apart and Fisher strolled in. "How's it looking, doc?"

"Fine, just some minor cuts. Taken care of," McCoy stood up quickly and began collecting his tools.

"Listen, Ad," Fisher turned to Carter and set down the ship's manifests on the desk beside her. "This guy's been real close to the Romulan Neutral zone, too many times for my taste. What do you think about that?" he pointed to a few log entries.

"I think it's disturbing," she read over the haphazard entries. "What the hell was he delivering if all his cargo is accounted for, which it apparently is?" she flipped through a few pages of manifests.

"There's a few kinds of cargo that don't fit into a box, Ad," Fisher intoned gravely.

She shook her head. "Reggie knows better than that. Is he in the brig?"

Fisher nodded. "In the brig and having some lunch, which is better than the brandy bottle special that he served you up with."

"Hm," she continued flipping through the log book. "Are we searching the ship?"

Fisher nodded. "I sent the trainees over right after you got back. I figure I'd beam them back in another ten minutes."

She paused, and closed the log book. "I'd like you over there, Jon."

Fisher knew what she was suspecting, and nodded knowingly. "Aye, sir." He turned quickly and left, leaving Carter with some unpleasant developments. She set the log book down on the floor with a dull thud and rubbed her eyes.

McCoy, leaning on the open doorway frame, had watched everything. "So, from the looks of it, this is turning out to be a little more complicated than you had planned?"

"When can I leave?" she looked up quickly. "I really need to talk to this guy."

He looked at the chronometer. "Give it another half hour, at least. He's in the brig, he's not going anywhere."

Fisher beamed aboard the Argo, and immediately began coughing at the dank and smoke filling the air. "Good lord, when was the last time these people had their ventilation checked?"

Mara Stevens, the female trainee swung her flashlight over with surprise. "Sir? We weren't expecting you here."

"Addy thought you might like the help," he said, smiling. "Found anything good?"

"Well, sir," she stepped over a stack of broken boxes. "We found a room that's a hell of a lot cleaner than this, and it looks like it's an improvised guest quarters."

"Show me," Fisher gestured away, and followed Mara, picking their way across the debris.

Mara showed him a half removed bulkhead plate. "I thought the plate looked a little slapped on, so I pulled on it. It came off, and you can see inside," she gestured.

Fisher glanced in, and saw two beds, along with scattered bedding on the floor. He sighed roughly. "There's no life signs besides the existing crewmembers. Do a sweep and tell me what you come up with."

"There's something else, sir," Mara opened a crate, revealing a sleek gray apparatus. Unmistakably, it was a cloaking device.

Fisher whistled. "Looks like this guy was running more than we bargained for. Dave?" he called out suddenly. "Could you get anything else out his computers?"

"Yes, sir," Dave acknowledged. "We got reams of that code, we'll have to take it back to the Enterprise to decipher it."

Jon stood in the center of the mess, slowly thinking about what they had found. Kirk would need to know about this, and his mind was already wording the request for backup he was sure they would need.

Captain Reghio sat huddled on the small outcrop of a seat provided in the brig and waited. He had known that the license they gave him was hot, he just didn't know how hot it was. He sighed and looked around, and realized that this really was the safest place in the galaxy for him at this point. And better it was Carter that arrested him and not some other agent of the OSFI. Other agents were unpredictable.

Carter appeared at the forcefield and knocked on the bulkhead. Her arm was in a sling. "Good afternoon, Reggie. How are they treating you?"

"Well, very well," he smiled as best he could and nodded. He didn't mention the damage he'd done to her arm. He was hoping that she would forget.

"That's great," she turned and gave a slight nod to the crewman operating the force field, and he disabled it. He stood ready with a phaser in hand, should the Rigillian try anything else. "Listen, we need to talk about that license you tried to pass off on me," she sat down casually and tapped the floor quietly with her foot.

Kirk had stepped into the brig quietly, studying the parched and frightened Rigillian Captain. He wondered what had given the little man with no weapons to speak of the audacity to attempt even a minor assault on the Federation Flagship, and if the report from Fisher was true.

Reghio shrugged it off again as best he could, but his veneer of control was growing thinner the further he descended into Starfleet hands. "I tell you, I not know,"

Carter shook her head and smiled. "No, what you said was 'He kill me.'"

"No, no," he breathed, tapping the table with long nails nervously.

"I have it on audio record. Do I need to play it back?" Carter paused, waiting for the blood to come back to his pale features. "Who gave you that license, Reg?"

He sat stubbornly silent, but Carter refused to be ruffled by his stubborn refusal to cooperate.

"Reg," her foot stopped tapping and she leaned on the little outcrop of a table. She whispered harshly as though she had a terrible secret. "I know about the cloaking device."

His face fell, and he knew that all was lost. His ship, his crew, and the meager reputation he had regained after his recent impoundment at the hands of Carter's associates. "Commander Selan," he let it out in a breath, as though he were releasing himself into a void.

"Selan?" Carter, who ordinarily appeared calm despite the worst storm, sat back in a degree of measureable shock.

Kirk dropped his arms and touched the control console for some support. Was this man smuggling Romulans? Across the neutral zone? For what purpose? And how many?

Carter stood up, her eyes withdrawn and saddened. "Reggie, were you transporting Romulan Spies across the neutral zone?"

"No! No!" he stood up and insisted so violently that it couldn't help but be the truth. "I pick up only! I pick up!"

"Pick up from where?" Kirk demanded and stepped to the invisible border, temporarily disabled in a remarkable display of trust on Carter's part.

"Federation side," Reghio glanced from Kirk to Carter and back again.

"And who delivered them to the Federation Side?" Carter asked her questions quietly, as though she were a mother who was deeply disappointed in her son.

"Romulan ship, warbird."

"What color was it Reggie?" Carter caught his eyes and held them with hers, drawing him into her trust and security.

He shook his head. "I don't know," he trailed off incomprehensibly.

"Color, Reg," she pressed him again, her eyes and her voice turning to cold steel as she realized how much she had trusted this little bastard and how far he had gone to betray her.

"Green," he whimpered, finally, sitting on the floor and holding his head in his hands.

Kirk looked at Carter strangely. The only Romulan vessels he had seen were gray, and painted with red markings like an honest to god bird of prey. She was kneeling at Reghio's side, holding his hand, and speaking quietly.

"Reggie, what you've done is a serious crime," she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It's punishable by a prison sentence at best, and a permanent revocation of all shipper's licenses at worst. Since you've come clean with me, I will do what I can to make sure you don't get the worst of it, all right?"

He nodded, and she stood up stiffly. She stepped out of the compartment and immediately went out the door into the hallway. Kirk motioned to the technician at the console to reactiviate the forcefield, and followed her.

"Carter," he called out after her. She turned to him, the anger evident in her stance. He looked at her, knowing what was going on but unsure of how to put it into words.

"Captain," she said harshly. "He's your prisoner now. my recommendation is that you nail that little son of a bitch for everything on his record and then some." Her words were a stark contrast to her behavior with him in the brig, and it shocked Kirk. So, she did have some sense of justice after all!

"What happens now?" he asked as she turned and began to walk away.

"I call for backup," she called back simply.

Kirk paced in the Officer's Lounge, nervous and yet somehow energized by these recent developments. He had sent a message to Starfleet, but he had taken a liberty and used the Intelligence frequencies recently made open for his use. He felt assured that using these frequencies would get his message read quicker.

McCoy and Spock appeared in the doorway; McCoy looking concerned and Spock his usual cool self.

"We have a problem," Kirk stated simply.

"Romulan spies in this quadrant has serious implications to Federation security," Spock stated to obvious, his hands behind his back.

"What does Addy say about it?" McCoy sat down.

"I don't know," Kirk sat down next to him and folded his hands. "She mentioned something about backup. I can expect a detailed report at the end of the day, if not sooner." Kirk stroked his chin, slightly marred by an early shadow. Was it stress that did this to him? Did the stubble appear as soon as the Rigillian had mentioned the word "Selan", an unmistakably Romulan name?

"God, Jim. How many Romulans are out there?" McCoy's voice went quiet.

"Who knows. But you can bet this is going to be a topic at the staff meeting tomorrow. I just wanted you two to be aware of it. Do me a favor and quell any rumors that you hear until then. Stuff like this has a tendency to fly like wildfire through the ship."

"Agreed," Spock nodded.

"Right. What some of these crewmen come up with is usually a lot worse than the truth, anyway." McCoy did his best at humor, but it wasn't easy considering the circumstances.

"I've sent a message to Starfleet, we should get a response before morning." Kirk finished up his summation and glanced at the two men. He could have done this from his quarters over the compics, but he needed to have them around him. He could tell that there was little they could offer in the way of advice, considering that there was even less to offer in the way of information. Their presence alone was enough to reassure him.. He could tell that there was little they could offer in the way of advice, considering that there was even less to offer in the way of information. Their presence alone was enough to reassure him.

"Spock, you can go," Kirk amicably waved away the Vulcan, who turned on his heel and stepped out. "Bones, you stay."

McCoy suddenly looked uncomfortable. "What's the matter, Jim?"

"How do you really know Addy Carter?" Kirk posed the question so fast that McCoy barely had time to remember the answer.

"Jim," he cleared his throat. "You ever hear of a professional secret?"

"I've never had the liberty of actually having one," Kirk mulled.

"Well, I do. And I intend to keep it." He turned to leave, a wry smile still on his face.

"Bones," Kirk stopped him. McCoy faced him, and Kirk smiled at him like a brother who knew he'd been out too late. "Don't get too friendly with the spies."

"It's not a petting zoo, Jim," McCoy retorted, and Kirk laughed at the hidden implications of the statement.

Carter waited in her quarters, her hands cold and shaking from nervousness. Despite their chill, they warped the jacket of her book with damp, and she moved them frequently to avoid damaging it. She could do little more than scan the pages, thinking of the terrible events of the day and anxiously awaiting some form of communication from her commanding officers. She couldn't get Len off her mind, either.

She didn't know what exactly had come over her the night before. Passing moment, she thought quickly. But he is so very charming.

The door chime rang and she closed her book. "Come in," she answered the chime and rose quietly.

Len McCoy appeared in the doorway, strangely empty-handed, but bearing a smile and cheerful demeanor. "Heard you had a rough day."

She set the book on her desk, and nodded. "You could say that. Come on in, Len. You're making me nervous."

He sat in a chair near the door and scoffed. "You? Nervous? I can't imagine."

"I have every reason to be and you know it. There's a pirate in the brig who was transporting Romulan spies in exchange for a cloaking device and god know what else," she adjusted her uniform in the mirror and ran a brush through her hair.

"Why would Rigillians and Romulans strike up any kind of bargain?" McCoy asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Well, the only reason I can think of," she stopped at the sound of the door chime again. "Come in," she said, and shrugged at McCoy's questioning glance.

Mara came in, looking a little nervous. "Good Evening, Lieutenant," she said stiffly.

"Good evening, Mara," Addy looked at her curiously.

"I hope you're feeling better," the trainee was still stiffly formal.

"Thanks to Doctor McCoy, I am. Thank you," Carter become concerned at her attitude. "Is there something that you needed?"

Mara glanced at McCoy, but when it became obvious that Carter had no intentions to excuse him, she stiffened and came right out with her complaint. "Sir," she began with the angry tone edging into her voice. "I want to ask you if you question my ability to serve as an intelligence officer."

McCoy suddenly became glad he wasn't really involved with this and lifted his brows in surprise.

"No. No, I don't question anything about your ability, Mara," Carter shook her head and sat behind her desk. "What makes you think that?"

"We were assigned to search the Argo, correct?"

"Yes," Carter nodded, folding her hands on the desk. "Why don't you sit down?"

Mara sat, but retained her air of injustice. "Then why did you assign Lieutenant Fisher to assist us in the search not five minutes after we started? Why not let us finish it ourselves?"

Carter blinked, and suddenly realized what that must have looked like to Mara. "Mara," she started gently. "Believe me, I had every intention of letting you two take that search. I wanted you to have it. Fisher brought me the log and manifests of the Argo while I was still in sickbay. When I looked through them I realized that there was a very good possibility that Reggie was smuggling operatives across the Neutral Zone. That's pretty heavy stuff, Mara, and quite frankly you and Dave don't have the experience to deal with this kind of thing yet."

"But he was smuggling operatives," Mara started to protest.

Carter held up her hand and smiled. "Yes, he was. And you found what we needed to prove it. I'm proud of you for that, and you should be proud of yourself. I never once doubted that you two wouldn't conduct a thorough search. My point is that I wanted you to have some more experienced backup. Do you understand?"

Mara sat and considered this for a moment. "Yes. I do, sir."

"Listen," Carter continued. "From the looks of it, you're going to be doing some serious work soon. Take the help while you can."

Mara stood and turned for the door, but paused for a moment. "Do you think we're going to run into Romulan spies?"

"I think that's a given at this point," Carter did her best to appear casual. "We just don't know the extent of their involvement. Good night, Mara."

"Good night, sir." Mara left quietly and Carter tapped her stylus on the desk.

"You know what's funny about that?"

"Hm?" McCoy lifted his chin.

"She's the quiet one," Carter pointed after her with a smile. "That's the last person on earth I'd have expected in here, demanding to know why I sent unrequested backup." She stood up. "You ready to go?"

McCoy stood. "What about the Romulans?"

"I'm not thinking about that today. I'll think about that tomorrow," she waved any Romulan thoughts away and stepped to the door.

"All right, Scarlett," McCoy smiled and offered his arm.


End file.
